Best Funerals Poems
Bringing spiritual togetherness
Congregation being the witness
Heaven’s call to soul’s come home
A place of rejoicing of an everlasting roam
The congregation giving a reflection journey
Deacons conducting the services as true ambassadors of the church
The ministry from the internal heart to being external in a rising mark
The home going of one’s life
Days on Earth being Heaven’s advice
Songs of redemption
Words of encouragement from God’s resurrection
A stainless glass church shade
These are the things reminding us Heaven has made
Deacons who keep the flow moving around the church
A finale established for while
A royalty send off being glorious style
The human soul all spread out
The praise surrounding is what Christianity is all about
A moment in the soul coming home
Deacons who are ministry in spreading the word alone
Flesh back to dust and the soul lifted up being a must”.
“Coffins. Who’d of thought it? Catalogues for coffins. And the speed and efficient nature of funerals in general. I mean I know we’ve been doing them for years, but we’re very good at it aren’t we?”
Everyone laughed.
“No, but really the whole thing has just been one task after the other, call the funeral home, call the hospital, call the crematorium, call the family, call the papers, call the lawyers.” She paused, “I’d half-forgotten someone had died!”
Everyone laughed.
“And the things that always seemed like jokes – he always said he thought he should hedge his bets with the man upstairs just in case the religious folks got it right, but was that serious?”
Everyone laughed.
“And the funeral director, oh the funeral director trying to tactfully ask if he was a fat man, by asking if we needed one urn or two.”
Everyone laughed.
“I mean the whole thing is just too funny.”
At the funeral everyone cried.
People glower; horns get louder -
I wonder why a drive so dour
was ever termed rush hour.
.
Dollars followed by point 99
Are dollars with one more assigned.
Retailers think shoppers math blind.
Business phones in America evolved
With English as option, not default,
Like a blond joke saw phones solved.
In the USA, I cannot afford to die
So place my body atop funeral rates
Until they pass sky for heaven-high.
Halloween is marketed in July,
Followed by Christmas in August –
Greed's gone awry, I won't comply.
Medical care doesn’t care at all,
Should be re-termed medical gall
As many are ill from medical appall.
The law fits fine if one is rich,
Others needing a justice hit
Need a thief’s help to pay for it.
Let me end my sad word hurl
As born in my dramatic world:
Hyperbole debris, reality decreed.
The past few weeks have been so tough
As you can clearly see
Four funerals for us to attend
But its not made me teary
The first was Aedan’s he was a lovely young man
I worked with him at school when he was aged eleven
He told me then he wouldn’t be long on earth…
At aged 20 he now plays his x box in heaven
We attended Derek’s funeral the very next day
There were tears of laughter that’s all I can say
The vicar John is a hilarious guy
I could picture Derek laughing from his place in the sky
Vicar John told a joke about a priest and a nun…
I didn’t expect to laugh and have so much fun
The next funeral was for a lady called Jean
(You don’t usually attend a funeral for a person you’ve never even seen)
But the family needed help to rig up a PA system
So those in the overspill hall could join the service and listen
My husband and I had worked tirelessly
To install speakers and wires that no one could see
With microphones rigged the church service was relayed
And we joined in the hymns when the church organ played
We de-rigged the equipment and were given cakes and tea
The church goers were delighted and praised my hubby endlessly
Today we went to the funeral of Bob our lovely friend
He had bravely battled ill health right to the very end
My son came from London and he sat on the pew next to me
There was a massive smile for him from Bob’s wife named Mary
After the service she gave my son a huge hug and I heard her say
"Seeing you in church was the best thing to happen on this sad day"
In memory of Adean Kennaugh, Derek Nicholson, Bob Doyle and Jean Vernon
08-11-17
During the pre-evening liturgy
Betwixt a shabby stall
Irate I sit scribing seasoned verses
Silent as an infant in production
Whilst the slaughtering of pacifism
Across the universe ‘tis my soundness
Perforated by the eerie current
‘Twas delivered via the vapors of her breath
Curtly, such graphic memories gnaw the very bones
Of what I had thought to be timeless romance
Though once again I’ve been forsaken
To drink all ‘twas left unsaid and unknown
with the corona virus upon us
I am bracing to hear the news
that so and so has died
I reflect back
on all the people in my life
that I have already lost
part of being older
is that you lose people
close to you along the way
I lost my father due to cancer in 1985
and my sister due to a freak illness in 2007
and my mother due to Alzheimer's in 2005
and my father-in-law as well in 2007
Demel Tucker
high school debate teammate
dead of HIV in 1995
Julian Bartley and his son
one of my favorite bosses
died in a terrorist bombing
in Nairobi in 1998
Jon Weber college roommate
dead due to prostate cancer
in 2000
Paul Simon friend from the visa line
dropped dead of a heart attack
in 2004
Ted Halstead
one of my best bosses
died of heart attack
in 2007
Chris Richard one of my former bosses
dropped dead of a heart attack
shortly before we were due
to have lunch in 2014
and so many others
I have lost
along the way
and soon there will be
so many more
as I get old
in the corona era
writer. com daily dew drop prompt to write an elegy poem
Not for my goodbye
half-hearted expressions of grief,
nor mumbled condolences faintly felt.
For somber attire topped by somber faces,
I have no need.
I came into this world bearing meager gifts,
but if our paths have crossed
and I have ever given you reason,
intentionally or otherwise,
to laugh,
to be glad,
to feel something worth feeling,
if I have managed to give you one moment
during this brief sojourn of mine, and yours,
when you thought to yourself,
“Right now, I’m glad to be alive,”
then I’d much rather you be joyous.
Clap your hands, if you would be so kind,
join in a small ruckus of valediction,
however undeserved,
when they wheel away my casket,
and let it reverberate
with your affirmation that
you’re glad, in the final reckoning,
that I have once been here.
Celebrate,
with your kind applause,
not the things I have said or done,
but the fact that we have briefly been joined
in a doomed quest
for meaning and happiness,
and bravely pursued
our defiant love of life
in the face of loveless time.
Three in number are the so valued events in modern life,
Yet each are harbors of different types of strife,
Each having a separate sharpness although all are part of the same knife,
Opening with the deceitful crown known as a birthday,
In youth it is all you await to say,
With treasured time constantly passing your age turns it into just another loathed day,
Weddings so vile and juvenile,
The average conjoining of two families for love of two who must find a way cause they be
with child,
When divorce happens perhaps next time you'll know in the beginning it's not worth while,
The truth-teller and savior of this winding game called life is only our tomb,
Funerals are our cradle and our release to death the truest womb,
Pray it comes swifter than any lightning and twice as powerful as any thunder's boom,
Each are simple and basic facts,
Each in their way cause enough for an all out war but absent are those who are actually
prepared to attack,
Until that long awaited rebellious revolution to the darkest embraces I shall slip back.
Look out you might see them
scuttling down your street
patting the neighbour’s dog
nodding to people they meet
They lurk on hospital corridors
wearing their black shiny shoes
then scour obituary columns
for all their latest news
They follow people on stretchers
to sickbeds, funerals, and wakes
asking for extra cups of tea
turning their nose up at cake
They might just take an interest,
if you should start to feel ill
checking on your temperature
your welfare and your will
So, keep your curtains closed tonight
lock all your windows and doors
the graveyard groupies are coming
it’s you they’re looking for…
We should whisper our prayers tonight
before we go to bed tonight
our souls shall slumber onto the brink of eternity
in God’s home filled with his many mansions
tomorrow morning is coming
time to plan our burial
our hollowed bones and mundane flesh
will be incinerated into a rubble of floured ashes
diffused into the bowels of the ocean’s depths
the residue of our mundane mortality left behind
on the pastures of this broken down, sinful, sadistic world
They closed my mother's casket
to be buried next to Dad today.
The crowd that came to honor her
began to walk away.
Nothing left but tiny breeze
a cold and lonely final stare,
and I her dear beloved son
just standing there,
just standing there.
I'm left with only shadows
and whispers in my mind,
as though it never happened
a stage of pantomimes.
A faded mist uncaptured
has evaporated all too quick,
like fruit attacked by fire blight
and I the striving stick.
Thought to be a stone at last
is now a simple ball of clay,
the meaning of my life
now washed away.
Washed away.
What now I sigh with fading eyes
I search for new beginnings,
but deep inside the voice will chide
Thus begins the ending.
Thus begins the ending.
It’s both a bitter funeral for freedom
and the birth of new crime.
Lord why do funerals occur everyday of the WEEK?
Is it because, we get what Adam and Eve REAPED!
Funerals have people that will never again awake from their SLEEP!
The arrogant and the MEEK,
In the end, they all get buried six feet DEEP!
Every time I attend funerals I realize, everybody born has to DIE!
Lord, I wish I can be caught up in the rapture, so my loved ones will not have to
CRY.
Many times when one dies, their love ones are not granted, the chance to say
GOODBYE.
Often at funerals not to cry people TRY.
I ask God why do we have funerals, but never do He REPLY.
So every time I attend a funeral, I will ask God WHY?
Funerals comes to all people, it does not depend on an individual AGE.
From the ignorant people to the wisest of SAGES.
When people get killed, funerals allows them to build up their RAGE!
As they watch their love ones, continue to be trapped in death’s CAGE.
Just hoping, from the dead they would be RAISED.
In the end you must face the facts, then turn to the next PAGE.
You hear about deaths on radio and T.V’S!
You think to yourself how can this BE!
You ask God, what did the individual do to THEE?
Then you think to yourself that could have been ME.
But you should not cry too much, if they were saved, they’re now heavenly HAPPY!
You will see them again in ETERNITY.
I blame Adam and Eve for funerals, it was with them did death ORIGINATE!
But knowing this, them I still will never HATE.
Because at funerals God promises He still DEMONSTRATES.
That no matter how much power and respect one has, in this life he still
REGULATES!
Many people think after they die they will be REINCARNATED.
Others think because of their good works, them to hell God will not
REGURIGITATE!
To prevent death you will never find a CURE.
Funerals everyone must learn to accept and ENDURE
Everyone knows they have to die the devil comes like a thief, with Jesus their life
they shall INSURE.
If you do not accept Jesus Christ to hell you will DETOUR.
Funerals happen for a reason is what He wants us to CONCUR!
How many funerals of ones self can someone have before there is nothing left
Don't answer
It's rhetorical anyway
Funeral number 1
A piece of her hair
A symbol of when they would stop and stare
At her hair
When they would make her life a living nightmare
Until she became too aware
Until It became too much to bear
Until she silenced her hair
What once was full of life
Was now minimised
I wish she had realised that without her halo
She would no longer glow
But then again hair can grow
Maybe it's a metaphor for ones worth
Funeral 2
Her laugh
Too loud they said
To black they said
To much they said
Too much space she took she thought
Her happiness too much
Too
Much
Now every room haunted by the ghost of her laugh
Her joy
Her presence
Her happiness
No room was worth going in anymore
Too empty
Too small
What once was loud
Was now silent
I guess laughter is the best medicine
I guess the medicine stopped working
Funeral 3
Her carved skin
She was just given it
She didn't ask for it
So why do they hate her for it
They told her bleach it
Then she would be pretty
She did
Now she's a monster
She can never win
What once was golden
Was now broken
I guess what glitters is not always gold
Or Maybe it is, I guess it was a lie they told
So I ask again
This time you can answer
How many funerals of ones self can someone have before there is nothing left ?
We don't discuss death
Civilized folk use funeral parlors
Funeral at home? Why on earth
We're good, clean entrepreneurs
The next generation never learn
How death is life, too, recycling
Part of life, why fear it, discern
God gives us children to go on living