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Best Funeral Poems

Below are the all-time best Funeral poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of Funeral poems written by PoetrySoup members

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See also: Best Famous Poems

123
Details | Funeral Poem | |

Where The White Rose Blooms

The single white rose captured the old gardener's attention,
He lovingly cared for it, like it was his own grand-daughter,
The roses were just like family and friends in his eyes,
He gave them bright sunshine, and plenty of fresh water.

He had always planted roses in reds, yellows, and pinks,
Yet, it was the one white rose that he favored most,
The old gardener admired it's innocence and elegance,
A quality that the other roses just could not boast.

This precious rose was pure white, like new fallen snow,
Which only a cold, late November day could bring,
It's delicate petals were soft to the finger's touch,
Similar to that of a feather, in an angel's wing.

The old gardener was perplexed and astonished,
Only this rose bloomed through spring, summer, and fall,
Each of the other roses had withered months ago,
The frost and cold weather did not affect it at all.

With a smile, the old gardener took one last look,
Unknowingly, death would soon come without warning,
After he had settled down for a nap in his chair,
He drew his last breath, later on that morning.

His funeral was held on the very next day,
Loving words were spoken, as he was laid to rest,
His grand-daughter approached, with tears in her eyes,
As she placed the single white rose upon his chest.

The cemetery was a quiet and peaceful place,
Where family and friends gathered to remember,
A gentle snow began to fall upon the casket lid,
Brightening the gloom on this final day of November.

The old gardener's soul departed from this earth,
Lead away by a choir of angels, on delicate wings,
Then on through the pearly gates of heaven's garden,
Where the white rose still blooms, in eternal springs.




November 25th, 2013

Details | Funeral Poem | |

All About Carolyn

When my time is done and I am finally laid to rest
I don’t want to be recalled as one who lived life depressed

So as I wrote my will, I chose to leave an instruction
That laughing gas be inhaled by all those at the function

No mournful eulogies will a pastor have to invent
For my funeral will be held under a circus tent

When dozens of clowns emerge from the tiny Volkswagen
Reams of my silly limericks Bozo will be dragin’

And as they’re read aloud, family and friends who knew me best
Will say, “She had a sense of humor, this we can attest.”

Mimes will mimic me trying to write the world’s best novel
As my corpse hangs from the trapeze, surely they will marvel

Laughter will ensue as they shoot me from the cannon
Flying high in my demise across the great Grand Canyon

All the children will smile and there’ll be no tears allowed
So no one will ever remember me as a “dark cloud”

There are people who seem to take life way too seriously 
When I meet my Maker, don’t view this as a tragedy

Dad called me his “happy girl,” so let me go out that way
I want to leave them laughing as I reach my judgment day



Entry for Sidney Lee Ann's "All About You" contest

Details | Funeral Poem | |

This Song is for my Mother

This song is for my mother
Let her hear me cry
I couldn’t bring myself to write it
‘Til this darkened day arrived
A song about old promises 
Made so long ago
Created and cremated
Ashes of the words I spoke

Long separated by the miles
Distanced from her golden smiles
Memory of a mother
Shared my dreams and really cared

Long separated by the miles
Distanced from her golden smiles
Mama…
I know I wasn’t there……

For you

Would have placed 
A magic carpet 
‘neath your weak and shaky legs

Would have raised
A strong west wind
Let you breathe with ease again

Would have bribed 
God’s venal angels
Come and soothe your endless pain

Would have vanquished
All the demons
And bring peace to you again

Be the child
I never knew
In a land
We won’t grow old

Be the light
I always loved
Warmed my dark 
And lonely soul

Be the girl
Playing games
In a world 
The sun won’t set

Be the laughter
Calms my heart
I never will forget
I won’t forget, won’t forget

This song is for my mother
Let her hear me cry
Couldn’t bring myself to write it
‘Til this darkened day arrived
Song about old promises 
Made so long ago
Created….cremated
Ashes of the words I spoke

I broke my promises, oh mama
Now you’ve gone away 
I’m broken
Drowning in the pain each day

I’m  drowning…drowning...drowning…drowning

This song is for my mother
Let her hear me…….



Details | Funeral Poem | |

Motherland's Funeral

In the past, my country
cradled me within her womb,
but our roles reversed.
I held her in my arms,
felt her slip away.

I lost my country today.
Gave her up to synthetic medicine,
deficit spending, 
and pie-charts overseas.

They wrenched her from my arms,
took her from my loving arms
to poke, to prod and draw blood.
I prayed while watching attempts made
at her resuscitation,
as greedy hands held out pens,
prodding me to fill in the proper forms.

The world is on lithium,
the drug has defiled the last drop of clean water.
My country was on lithium,
for her, the vibrant colours turned into dull grays,
and in the end, her heart gave way 
from having spent too many decades 
trapped within a gilded cage.

She had an organ donor card -
her organs were sold off one-by-one
while she still clung onto life.
Her organs were removed,
replaced with waving flags
and roaring stadiums.

Men from every standing, race and creed,
groped Motherland's body
after causing her to bleed.
Many men had laid with her. 
Oh, how they did.
At least some men showed decency,
graced her with meaningful caresses.
But they were far and few between -
between the rape, miscarriages and spoils.

Lithium is being slipped into my drink,
into my food, into the very air I breathe,
so daily I purge,
horrified by my country's overdose.
She looks decrepit, splayed out in the morgue,
a cardboard ticket hanging from a big toe
like an empty, whorish price tag.

I will have to give her a proper burial in my mind,
for they are going to have Mother embalmed,
encase her in a glass coffin,
and put her on display.

Our Mother passed away,
yet the land is here to stay.
I will walk across clear-cut ridges,
pass through neon-lit distractions
as a gypsy vagabond.
From now on, the territorial lines
mean nothing more to me than rules to follow.
The shell of this country remains, 
Nationalism has turned empty-hollow.

I lost my country today.
Gave her up to synthetic medicine,
deficit spending, 
and pie-charts overseas.

I lost my country today,
held her in my arms,
watched her slip away,
felt her slip away.





April 30th, 2012

Details | Funeral Poem | |

I'll Be Back

Faded memories inked
on the shell of my
skin.
best friends forever
through thick and
thin.
Fourteen years ago,
blurred images I
remember,
cold stubborn tears
of a harsh December.
That little white
Escort could spin on
payment,
in that Denny's
parking lot, icy,
slick and wet.
We braved the storm,
like we always did
together,
You loved me, I know
I loved you better!
Always a sweet
smile, you brought
me joy,
Best friend loves
deeper than a love
from a boy.
Everything we did
together, a team, a
duo,
Off on the main
road, into the night
we go.
My hands on the
wheel, oh I was
scared,
Driving on ice, I
was mentally
unprepared.
Hazy shades of
winter, soaked with
tears,
The crashing sound
of metal, twisting
fears.
Why wasn't I the one
that met God that
night.
Eyes closed, your
vacant eyes in my
sight.

Arrested, I couldn't
go to your funeral,
Rehab, institutions,
adults gave me pull.
It was too much to
handle, sixteen and
sad.
I'll be back, I
promised, but I
never had.
I walked away,
blocked out the
pain.
I'd cry in silent
along with the
pouring rain.
Memories were
nightmares, I closed
the door.
I couldn't think
about your smile
anymore.
I killed you, it was
because of my deed,
I hated myself
forever, my
ignorance, my greed.

I lay on my
cancerous death bed,
My regrets filling
my daily guilty
head.
I'll be back,
holding your hand in
the ever after,
In heaven with your
contagious laughter.
I'll be back, with
my best friend, I
know I will.
After all this time
I hope you love me
still.


For Contest : I'll
be back
Date: 08-03-2014

Details | Funeral Poem | |

The Psychostasia

The Psychostasia
(The Egyptian Funerary Rite)

For seventy days I’ve been prepared
With oils and unguents ever so rare
And with linen bandages to and fro
Wound and wrapped from head to toe

And on this journey I’m prepared to start
By enduring the “Weighing of the Heart”
With Toth’s oversight we’ll see whether
My heart weighs true against Truth’s feather

Should it fall short the beast will devour
My soul to oblivion in my final hour
Yet should it measure straight and true
The Pylon opened I’ll be ushered through

And then I shall fall unto my knees
And pray that Osirus hears my pleas
That he acknowledge and clear my tears
And accept my soul for a thousand years

And cleanse said soul of all its scars
And make me one with the canopy of stars
And bless my children and my wife
That they may join me in the afterlife

Details | Funeral Poem | |

the skeleton tree

i am the skeleton tree
bare branches where leaves
are suppose to be
i am the skeleton tree
bare bones and no flesh
not another me
i am the skeleton tree
thousands of ancesters
but not one child for me
i am the skeleton tree
the end of my fathers name
and so called legacy

yet i sing a song
like there is nothing wrong
and being last doesn't matter
and yet i've writen a verse 
that many will rehurse
when one day my poetry matters
and when i die
who knows who will cry
i'll just be dead and gone
but the skeleton tree
that once was me
will live on in eternity
the skeleton tree
that one could read
and ponder possibilities
a skeleton tree
that one could recite
tell the difference between wrong and right
a skeleton tree
with branches and no leaves
yet and still the best of me
a skeleton tree
in this world i leave






Details | Funeral Poem | |

Flowers,,,Beautiful Flowers

Flowers...beautiful flowers.

These flowers will not replace my friend.
Their beauty will soon go the way of life-
Fade and wither and then take flight.

Piled upon this mound of dirt to mark our sorrow,
Offered as a sacrifice to soothe our souls.
Petal nor thorn could save this rose.

Like flowers cut down in height of beauty,
This face that bloomed and wore big smiles,
Is covered here to rest awhile.

Then beyond the markers numbered many,
Placed in rows to make order of death,
I saw something that took my breath.

Flowers...colorful flowers...that filled
The field yet fallow...waiting for the day
When friends and family gather...and pray.

Flowers...beautiful flowers.

Details | Funeral Poem | |

And Now For Something Completely Different

The sun rose in the west today – or, perhaps, I was standing on my head?
I went to a funeral for my very best friend, but the chap wasn’t even dead!

Said he wanted to be eulogized while drinking a pint of beer.
I think the things we said about him, weren’t exactly what he wanted to hear.

“He was, or is, an egotistical old bastard – doesn’t surprise me in the least, 
that he wants to attend his own funeral service – God, what a horrible beast!”

And that, my friends, was from his Mom; the best friend a boy ever had.
“When finally they put his body in the ground, I think we’ll all be glad.”
Egad!

Global warming took a holiday, as the snow piled up real high;
that bugger for whom we passed the plate, took out his wooden eye.

The casket was full of cold cuts; The bartender doubled as the priest; I took another shot of tequila, while the sun started setting in the east. The ladies started undressing; my organ started to rise; I played Beethoven’s “Requiem”, with it pointing to the skies.
The only tears that were shed today belonged to the corpse who was still alive – His ex wife sang that old Gloria Gaynor tune, “You know, I will survive!” The next time he throws a party for himself, I think he’ll choose a different theme – And maybe the people who come and get drunk won’t be so awfully mean!

Details | Funeral Poem | |

Barricaded Babies

Nightmares tore her sleep with unseen teeth.
Her small thin legs in constant cramp from dream running.
She was only a child, but not the only child,
beside her, across a gap of oaken floor, in a matching bed I slept.

Whimpering brought me near,"Tell me good things," she'd say. 

"Make me sweet dreams." And I would snuggle her close.

"Warm, small, cuddly kittens," I'd chant 
and "chocolate bunnies to chomp."

The memories long gone, linger on. 
I remember her wet cheeks 
and sheets of woe night after night,
until the wee girl began to grow, 
to shield with the only things she knew food,
with food for thought and form sated
sleep came easier.

She grew through the nightmare of longing
our home, she grew to and past me
little mother, big mother,
she sang the songs of love to dolls,
to kittens, to stray dust-motes
and grew.

Too sweet to linger in the lost land 
where battles must be found and fought.
Too dear to go through life alone, 
need...garnered, family formed
upon the rack of sustenance
and the twist of genetic curdling's
she blooms still.

Barricaded at intervals from the nightmares,
cramped with too large a soul in too fragile 
a form, sister mine, friend of all.....

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