Brother Funeral Poems | Examples
These Brother Funeral poems are examples of Funeral poems about Brother. These are the best examples of Funeral Brother poems written by international poets.
Fly brother fly
Those wings weren’t meant to be bound
Over the seas to heaven where grace does resound
And as the bereft
We shall visit you often where memories are kept
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
His days he spent pleasantly
as befit his soft upbringing
running the family business
counting the money pouring in
leaving the real work to his brother
One day their father passed –
deciding to attend the burial
he was startled to see a rabbi presiding
father was not Jewish, was he
Does that mean, he wondered –
could it be that I’m Jewish
But he dismissed the preposterous thought
buried it deep in his conscience
another funeral
not shocking or a surprise
I am seventy-two
I could probably go to one every week
like my sister
if I still lived in a small town
This is my friend’s brother’s funeral
the last funeral I attended was another friend’s sister’s.
I have eight core friends
They are all alive and kicking
But most of their siblings have not been so lucky
Except for my best friend.
She has eight sisters and a brother.
They are all alive and well as of this morning.
I also have my siblings; we are the lucky ones
Throughout our lives, Dad and I have done many things together.
From coloring books to fishing, from wiffleball to hardball
To tune-ups on secondhand cars, casinos, and funerals.
In the parking lot after one particularly salty service:
Dad and I ended up holding a pair of funeral vases
The eulogist barked, "Don't forget to pour out the water".
Side by side and on cue,
Dad and I clownishly poured the flower water
onto the funeral home parking lot.
The water hit with a surprisingly cartoonish smack...
Getting our shoes soaking wet. We both laughed, then said our goodbyes.
I like to think Brother Angel was giggling with us, once again.
A lone bugle wept as it wrapped
its plaintive message ‘round her heart
Why relentless drumbeats for another
raised hope anew for her brother
Is not ours to fathom unless
we close our eyes to death
It is a poet who sings
It's a writer who tells
His stories.
It is an author who expresses himself
He is a speaker of the highest esteems
Who review the sad memoirs.
He is a brave man who externalizes himself
It is a poet who analyzes
Actions, fictions and facts.
It's a brother who fights
It's a soldier in the middle of a proxy war
Who preaches harmony, love and peace.
Copyright © May 2019, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
Pete had an ordinary funeral, nothing ostentatious or showy.
Two straight backed strangers appeared in his small Iowa church.
They were dressed in Air Force uniforms.
They hugged each other for a long time.
Another soldier gone, one said.
Our brother said the other.
These three had been the only survivors of C Company.
In the middle of a jungle swamp in Viet Nam in 1970.
From his catbird seat Pete Lansford watched.
He was grinning at them so hard that Jim looked up.
Pete gave him a high five, but neither Jim or Joe could see him.
Thank you for letting me watch my funeral he told the angel.
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.
The child who has lost a grandparent
Wants to spend all of her time with the surviving ones.
Watching them sleep, checking their breathing.
Fearful of the next step.
The child who has lost a parent
Does not want to waste time
She is afraid the other parent will disappear
If she comes to school; so she clings and cries.
The child who has lost a sibling
Now knows children are destructible, and killable.
He feels guilty at recess, choosing not to play
Because his brother no longer can.
The child who survives death
Of a loved one
Often loses
Herself or
Himself
In
Grief
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