Too hard for me to say goodbye
For all apparent reasons why
Even though we all know it must be
Each heart will someday stop the beat
When the rhythm of life, and silence, finally meet
Yet I always seem so surprised
To find that death is part of life
Knowing that regret, will now haunt my every rhyme
The specter called "if only", will inhabit every line.
Wish I could arbitrate a deal to have gained a little time
Just one more talk with Sissy, to ease my guilty mind.
And the sun now sets on my regrets
I gamble on time and lose each bet
Thinking I'll move on and yet,
here I set . . .
Wishing for one more time
One more pun
One more smile
That will never come
If I could just recall the things you said that mattered to you most.
Memories un memorized
That now I'll never know
Years of conversation when I didn't pay attention
Times I should have said I love you
And somehow failed to mention
Then when you tried to tell me you felt your time was drawing near
Your selfish little brother pretended not to hear.
Even when you did your best, and tried to let me know
You'd made your peace and you were ready, and that for you . . .
It was simply time to go
Copyright © Kelly Crenshaw | Year Posted 2015
Here lies the best Grandfather,
One who was very considerate.
Remembering him as a child,
I would sit on his lap.
He was a rare person indeed.
He was a colonel in the Army.
Also superlative of a gentelman.
Here lies the best grandfather,
May he rest in peace.
Copyright © Sarah Cassleman | Year Posted 2013
Where am I? Why is it dark?
This isn’t what I had in mind when I left the park…
Why isn’t the wind whispering…the songbirds singing?
All I remember is a telephone ringing…
A scream and a crash and a pain in my side…
Is this what happens after one’s died?
I don’t feel like myself, I feel wild and free,
Yet I’m cold and alone, 'stead of filled with glee.
My whole life I’ve studied, and pondered, and prayed,
Trying to fathom what would happen this day
But now that it’s here, I’m beginning to fear
Maybe the afterlife’s not what it appears…
It’s certainly not what I’ve been told by my preacher
Or my parents or brother or best friend or teacher…
Is it a bad thing, or is it good?
Maybe it’s just not quite understood...
While I was on Earth, I just couldn’t wait
To meet good St. Peter at the heavenly gate
And ask him a question or query or two
“What was my purpose?” “What good did I do?”
“What’s it all for?” “How does it all flow?”
“Can I have one more body, one more try, one more go?”
But where is the angel? Where is the gate? And
If this is Hell, then where is Ol’ Satan?
Am I a lost soul? Am I forgotten?
Am I to be left here until I am rotten?
Lo and behold! what, now, can this be?
Is this a wonderful spiritual epiphany?
Is this the magical feeling all souls receive
When they leave Earth? Oh! was I that naïve?
How could I have not seen the realism?
Why was I consumed in man-made idealism?
This is more wondrous than all I was taught
Oh, all the times I argued and fought
With others, ‘bout how their views were asinine
Now I see, theirs were just as wrong as mine!
Little I thought was actually correct!
How, why, did I let others petty beliefs infect
My untouched, my pure, my virgin mind?
I regret all the hours I self-tortured to find
That compared to what I see now, I was empty and blind…
Wait - - What is this that I see?
What is this gateway that is revealed unto me?
Now a door is opened to my immortal soul
I am expected now to enter my life’s final goal…
I am scared, intimidated, but still I am glad…
For the truth I have just seen is anything but bad.
This is the end of my journey, I’ve nothing to fear,
For now I am going Beyond the Frontier.
Copyright © Jacob Dufour | Year Posted 2013
I stare upon December's moon,
and wonder why some leave so soon.
When news hits us like shattered glass...
Can we believe what's come to pass?
When we aren't meant to understand...
Then who are we to judge God's plan?
As he sifts through the sands of time...
Was this really by design?
Will we get from here to there,
and know it when we do?
Will we greet our flesh and blood,
and those we never knew?
Remember those that mean the most,
and hear their voices ring.
Then shut your eyes...and listen close,
and you'll hear an angel sing...
Copyright © 2007
Copyright © Cole Banner | Year Posted 2013
I do not know?
Kisses, hugs, softly cuddled,
a baby's giggle,
a family huddled.
where he once sat.
Why, dear God
are we left with that?
Tears, frustration, anger stirs
why's he gone so soon?
Days to months how time blurs.
Memories can't die
like people do.
why, dear God
did he go to you?
Reason, truth, a higher power,
We know it's not our place
to know the date, the exact hour.
Others will go away
and empathy we will show.
we can only trust in You,
for why is not ours to know.
Copyright © James Nichols | Year Posted 2012
Do not disturb the water
The man once said to me
for those who've tried are no more
They spoke of love and life once lived
A place called home, where all was his
It all burnt away, he said with a tear
and all i'm left with is this empty fear
As you see my friend we've much in common
But theres once major difference
you're not in a coffin
So feel free to take a swim
Test the waters he said with a grin
for I see you know which way to go
Dont make me push you in
Copyright © Addam Hughes | Year Posted 2012
Funeral Cortege Sans Protocol
The autumnal equinox period
Spells time for worship, pilgrimages
Rituals and a pandemonium
Of festivities and gay hyperactivities
The elephant godhead idol
Over decked, anointed
With all fervour is immersed
In its watery bed amidst chantings
Its worshipped form
Turns to formlessness
The formless deities rise at dawn
Bleating like sacrificial lambs
Leaving a trail of dismembered limbs
On shores like the carnage of pilgrims
Heaped on one another in Mecca
After the great crane's death knell
A convoy of trucks arrive to pile
The mutilated aftermath of their godly images
Littered unwanted on the golden sands
Sweep the once worshipped but
Now shredded and tattered earth's burden
On their slow funeral cortege sans protocol
November 11, 2015
Contest: Dark Poetry
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
Copyright © Balveen Cheema | Year Posted 2015
We were three in a group,
When we came back after preaching,
Father blessed to each other individually,
What is your bless God may bless you?
My friend was a funeral director,
He had a prayer for his success,
He was quiet happy this time,
His funeral service was very busy.
My other friend was a doctor,
He also had a prayer for his success,
His season was little quiet this year,
He was willing more patients than last year.
I was a lawyer and have prayer for success.
I was also willing more criminal cases,
If people will attempt more murder and rape,
I shall get more; it is a matter of my income.
Do you like to serve in that way as you doing?
Everyone has needs, who doesn’t like luxury?
God has power to fulfil prayers, a religious belief,
If people are servicing for self who can get relief?
Copyright © Daljit Khankhana | Year Posted 2005
The Final Home Coming
From where the sky meets the high seas
Talking drums rolled out endless eulogies
As we waited, with the shore’s mud up to our knees
Some even did dance to the rhythm - no apologies
The mangrove flanked aquatic expanse
Its inhabitants in rapturous excitation
Announced the regattas' glorious advance
Even monkeys from trees did swing, in celebration
The colorful seven made haste to the shore
Their paddling, sequenced and synchronised
Each propelled by the muscles of twenty and four
The music, all but the drummers hypnotised
The wailing and drumming crescendos
As the casket is hoisted by each pall bearer
Threnodies and praise songs devoid of innuendos
Rent the air, from those to whose hearts he was dearer
Each relative, the other did strive to outdo
And to this illustrious son, give for at least once
With one good deed, all transgressions undo
Impressing the dead - the mind of a dunce
Priests did read Christian verses and made recitations
His soul, confused and standing with arms akimbo
As witch doctors also did chant incantations
Knew not which way led to Heaven, Hell or Limbo
In this carnival of his final journey home
He’d also sailed the metaphysical realm
Maybe, on tranquil seas that do not rage and foam
His first and last without control of the helm
Copyright © Sandison Jumbo | Year Posted 2017