Best Memorial Service Poems
The funeral was a surprise to all
writers
Bury me!!!
Poetry shouted
Bury me and leave no trace
If pen lost ground and laid
beneath
Then this hand too belong with
wreath
Words drifting in dark attractive
walls protecting poetry's insights
Drag lyrical baskets in caskets,
Make believe world,
Imagery paint me living,
Word breathing and I see the
light
Tell me lies,
Craft sweet lines,
Render me blind to the grave-
site in sight
It’s a bite from evaporated
rights,
Flashing poetry's resurrected
rights
Speaking wind flights as poetry
wishes to go deeper is session
nights
In-depth inspection 6-feet
beyond resurrection prospectus,
No light for revival,
Chew,
Spit,
Disintegrate,
No chance for survival - she's
dead - it’s final
Technically my brain is too
bright for
Binoculars searching creativity's
seeds in
Hives
Bending lives
Teary eyes
Blinking smiles
The funeral was a surprise to all
writers
(c) Tshego Khumalo & Raymond
Ngomane
I know it has been hard, and you feel like you cannot cope; weep if you must but never lose hope.
You cry until you feel like your throat is tied with a rope; get that grief out but never lose hope.
The emptiness may seem very hard to bear but at some point, I encourage you to be of good cheer.
Death can be likened to that of a slippery slope, but remember there is life after death so never lose hope.
The pain you feel engulfs your being like an envelope, but stay strong and never lose hope.
The sting of death is appointed to the common man and even a pope, however, it will be defeated just never lose hope.
Rise up in victory and you will see that a day is coming which will bring the great jubilee.
I will encourage you to view death in a positive scope, remember God is with you through it all so never lose hope.
Walking out of church into the autumn morning
Among many this overwhelming feeling
There are no bad people, no addicts this day
Too beautiful and clean: the tall tree, the air, sky
Such a calmness descends
All seems well - no addictions
Not a day to spend frivolously
The gifts of God, generously
Given has sunk into all hearts
Thank you Mrs. Douman, fondly "TANIE NITA"
We were neighbors once, we shared plants
Your homegoing gave all a taste of heaven
And a mixed gathering in South Africa's NGK
Netherlands Gereformeende Kerk today
When sadness grips my weeping soul and the days seem gloom and hopeless,
memories of you live on and linger like a gentle breeze passing through the leaves on a tree. When I am in denial and still cannot 'come to grips' that you are gone; when my heart is heavy and I sigh and often cry...
Memories of you live on like a mighty flow of a flooded river. When I try to forget and regret learning of your death, that fateful day your life was taken away, you are gone to eternity, so suddenly, being cut off and that without remedy.
Memories of you live on as I think about the good times we shared, the times when we lived, laughed, loved and cared. When I reflect on your lifetime here on earth, the lives you impacted, your contributions to society, the way you lived as though you would be here forever...Memories of you live on like parables Jesus told when he walked this earth some two thousand years ago. When family and friends gather to reminisce, scrolling through photos, watching homemade videos, memories of you live on like the pain etched on our faces with every thought of you. When you left without saying goodbye, it ripped my heart in two. Gone too soon, but the memories of you live on.
Local Memorial Service
Outside the funeral agency two employees
dressed for their job, stood smoking, by the pavement
a hearse with coffin inside stood waiting.
finally, they threw the butts in the gutter started
The car to take to the church where the casket would
be decorated with flowers and then with a cortège
of mourners followed behind led by the local padre.
There were no many men among the marchers, they
thronged the bar on the way and only joined
in the last minutes.
The padre did the rituals and packed up and left
the mourners cried and there were many handshakes
among the people and talk about the dead person
who apparently had been a bit of a bastard cheating
in cards and not to be trusted.
Of course, nothing of this was uttered at the cemetery
it was later in the bar the person of ill-repute was mentioned
As you probably already know (if you don't I apologize) my wife, and life's partner, has departed this life and gone to heaven to be with other loved ones who have passed before her. I am mourning her departure but know she would want me to carry on and make her proud of me. So that's what I intend to do.
Many of you have inquired about a memorial service. Barbara and I talked many times about our passing and our desires when it occurred. I hope and pray that you understand our decision and that you celebrate who she was in life, and not dwell on, or be consumed by, the sadness we're feeling of her death. She is not gone from our lives until we no longer remember or are gone ourselves.
I have written the following poem that is the result of our decision about our memorial services. I thank God that he has given me the gift to write such poems. Maybe God took her first so I would be around to honor her in this way. I love you Barbara.
The Memorial Service
For Barbara Popovits Price
By Franklin A. Price
01/22/2022
On eighteen January, the year was twenty twenty-two
My wife, whom I love dearly, left this world to me and you.
She was lifted to a better place, to a new home in the sky
I believe she's gone to heaven where I'll meet her when I die.
The life we lived together was the best that it could be.
She'll never leave my broken heart, always live in memory.
The years that we were married were the best ones of my life.
We shared, our all, our everything, love and happiness, some strife
Through it all we worked together to make the vows we said a fact.
She's still here and whispering, in my ear, the second act;
Speaks of the years we spent together, of the life she gladly shared.
She asks me how my day went. Tells me just how much she cared
To all her friends and family, all the ones who hold her dear,
If you listen very closely, she'll also whisper in your ear
We could have had a service, a sad and somber, crying wake
We should rather celebrate her life, and her love, for goodness sake!
I'm in the home we made together. You're always welcome at our place
We'll tell tales of how she touched us, recall her loving, smiling face.
Memorial service ~10:00 A.M. October 21st, 2020...
at Cherry Hill, New Jersey Unitarian Fellowship
Boyce Brandon Harris cremains
(approximately one fourth entire contents)
offered, interred, and eulogized
within ‘Tristan’s Pollinator Garden,'
which constitutes minute arboretum
bore witness to immediate family of said deceased
yours truly plus eldest and youngest sister
each of us communicated solemn words
to recall admirable, inimitable,
and unfathomable father,
whose passing (evident previous six months,
whereby his declining physical health)
unfettered, presaged, and indicated imminent death
now his invisible spirit
dwells amidst the spiritual abodes
encompassing three offspring,
he and the late Harriet Harris begat,
whose lives analogous
to quasi orphaned grown children
all adults with independent lives of their own.
We (progeny of our father and mother,
the latter deceased
approximately fifteen and a half years)
convened at above mentioned site
see fourth line of poem
to consecrate, designate, and generate
extemporaneous heartfelt sentiments
honoring his wishes,
mixing joys and sorrows,
regaling poignant occasions
before shoveling soil
punctuated silent benediction
courtesy Reverend Margret A. O'Neall,
Developmental Minister eloquently enunciated
reassuring, healing, and comforting words
to small congregating crowd
comprising half dozen plus people.
Come spring two thousand twenty one
a hearty shrub or tree,
(yet to be decided upon)
will be planted within sanctioned
space, whereby Mother Earth
will allow, enable, and provide
nondescript ashes to mingle
subterranean flora and fauna,
whence roots of former will help filtrate
cremated body once housing
Boyce Brandon Harris.
He who helped bring us
(meaning Amélie, Matthew and Shari)
into existence forever spirited into the future
linkedin by actions
genetically, indirectly and knowingly
hashtagged, kickstarted and tweeted
said son and daughters
who possess his corporeal heritage.