Funeral Brother Poems | Examples
These Funeral Brother poems are examples of Brother poems about Funeral. These are the best examples of Brother Funeral poems written by international poets.
Angola Silence (Renku)
In a silent mood
Await the pure white horses
To draw the carriage
Someday comes my turn
Laid amidst the other graves
Angola will reign
Carry a brother
Dispense final dignity
In this place of pain
Brothers agreed on almost nothing
Except the sax, which bound them spiritually.
They came together to play at their mother’s funeral
She was watching, naturally, loving her sons
All three brothers kept their grief to themselves
Sharing no feelings, for it is not manly, right?
Their saxophones did their talking for them.
“Those are my boys!” Mom said to the angels.
KeyAnna was an absolute exquisite wonderful joy,
Said more than one person, many one after another.
She was simply adored by every girl and boy.
Except her more knowing sister and brother.
They both marveled at how many she had fooled.
Siblings listening to tribute comments about their sis.
Decided the survivors did not need to be schooled.
Her funeral was not the place to out this horrible Miss.
At the end of this past night's dream, I came around the corner and saw into the kitchen, where Wilum was doing the dishes. I stood a moment paralyzed, realizing he was a ghost, as he turned and smiled at me. I said, "Oh. You came." I strode forth and hugged him tightly, and woke weeping.
Wally was a warrior
took no crap from no one
gave no crapt to none
Wally was my warrior,worrier number one
wise from the south side
smart from the walls
Wally was warrior One
no one had more balls
we enjoyed a lot of times
drank ourselves sick sometimes
wouldn't ever take it back
but now his friendships what I lack
gonna miss U for a long long time
but this sure aint the last
that this world is gonna see
of Wally KID BLAST
PALLANES
For Paul
I heard the siren loud and shrill
And down my back there cruised a chill
A gas explosion, down the mine
Had blocked the shaft at number nine.
Twelve miners trapped beneath the ground
But one was dead when they were found
My brother Paul, of sixteen years
My mother’s face awash with tears.
Just like a babe she bathed her son
Her little boy whose life was gone
My chest so tight...my throat so dry
A pain so deep I could not cry
Years pass,but still there are times
just before sleep
When I remember...and weep.
An original poem on the theme of --- Funeral/ Death
Margaret Foster
Part truth / part fiction. 22/5/10