Long Mortuary Poems
Long Mortuary Poems. Below are the most popular long Mortuary by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mortuary poems by poem length and keyword.
A constant chime beckons the arrival of an impending goodbye,
A constant chime beckons the arrival of a stranger passing by,
An annulet rests on a passerby's finger,
A cold glowing metal like a beacon of prestige,
A dull drapery withholds the stranger's self,
A chaos draped in peace is what he looks like,
A calm smile not too bright not too dull,
Just subtle enough to soothe the stagnant sight,
Is this waning figure looking at me?
Is this silhouette just all that is?
From horizon beyond a ray of hope comes to embrace the darkened skies,
He looks around with eyes that look like cold ice entrapping the everburning fire within,
This town; a mortuary of selves holds the ashes and dusts ,
He keeps the hand on my head as if to stroke the hairs but doesn't lifts his fingers,
He just stays,
The eyes look tired,
His frame isn't as big as his shadow,
He points towards the horizon,
Murmuring a lullaby of times bygone,
You don't matter,
He quietly says,
He walks away without looking back,
Before I know it my steps fall behind his in rhythm following him as a question waiting to be inquired,
He decides to rest at the pier,
Slouching back as the drapery of his gets muddled with the lake water,
The hood of his falls behind,
He pats near the pier and I sit next to him,
"What matters?", I inquire;
He looks into my eyes; his lips parted for a moment before he says "This",
Beyond the horizon is the one day you will know it was worth it,
Beyond this present waits a "you" who has lived this path,
In a few decades you will be weary and we will be alike,
You may need to come back here to guide,
What matters is the smile,
What matters is the sombre lullaby you can hum in other's lives,
So subtle that they won't notice when it's gone ,
Yet one that carries a note that echoes and gets them going for even a moment more,
This smile will be yours soon ,
Devoid of pretense,
Of attachments,
A smile heralding a stranger's goodbye,
He takes out the annulet and keeps on my palm,
He stands gently as the sunrise lights up his face,
And off in the mist he quietly fades,
A chime is heard in the town once more,
A constant chime beckons the arrival of this stranger passing by,
A constant chime beckons this stranger's goodbye...
Halloween at the Bates Hotel
The attendant in the Ghostface rig was kinda creepy,
When I came in to pay the gas I owed.
“Is there a motel nearby? I’m really sleepy.”
He pointed down a dark and dreary road.
No kids were Trick-or-Treating that Halloween night,
Nothing was open. I couldn’t buy nor sell.
I could barely see. There wasn’t a single light.
Then I saw the sign for the Bates Hotel
The clerk in drag, carrying a dripping blade,
Said they had a sudden opening;
But first he had to get the room remade.
“Why don’t you stroll outside, see what’s happening.”
Some spaced-out dwarves were shuffling ‘round the mortuary,
While a Tall Man looked down from up above.
Nearby a big dude in a goalie mask was swinging a machete,
Taunting a burned guy wearing a freaky glove.
Another dude was gardening, cutting something at night,
Sporting a leather mask and a gas chainsaw.
But a walking-talking Good Guy doll gave me the biggest fright--
He was probably the weirdest thing I saw.
I decided to head back; this town gave me the ‘willies’.
A big shape and a clown grabbed me outside the Bates Hotel!
“I’m Mike Myers, and my friend’s name’s Penny.
We’ve come to convey you back to Hell.”
(7/5 Trochee Poem)
Chicken Little, thinking that
sky was soon to fall,
saw a mortuary and
crawled beneath a pall.
He was in a strange dark box
where a dead man lay.
Then before he knew it, they
hauled that box away!
He was moved, but that poor bird
couldn’t get a look,
for they’d closed the wooden lid,
Chicken Little shook.
When the casket got dropped down
in the ground so deep,
Chicken Little, very scared,
still made not one peep!
He was sure the sky fell down
when he heard the dirt
being shoveled over him.
This was gonna hurt!
Nothing happened, but he could
barely take in air.
Am I dying? Little thought:
Is the sky still there?
No more would the animals
hear poor “Little’s” call
warning them of tragedy
if the sky should fall.
Chicken Little never guessed
he was murdered by
that same earth he‘d walked upon,
and not by the sky!
Moral: Fear can sometimes lead you into something far worse than you ever imagined, so be careful not to fear things too greatly!
An oldie for Joseph May's Fabled Musings Poetry Contest
Fifty nine inch tall wife
once willowy wisp
postmenopausal galloping gourmandiser
playboy centerfold girly
figure ain't no mo,'
which superfluous weight deterrent,
love life yours truly
took Kamikaze nosedive
arousing, exciting, stimulating...
as romancing the stone statue,
but seen thru Tom
gobbler beady eyes
butterball babe resembles hottie
female turkey on steroids without feathers,
spouse already qualifies as Hen pecker
not admirable characteristic
to encourage physical intimacy
whew, which allows this husband
to redirect pro creative pursuits
where English language
beak homes muse,
which amateur philologist
attests to literary penchant
most likely garnering posthumous fame
revving up avast surge
necessitating Barry yore
to deter den of thieves
against stealing precious
documents - sold at auction
avid fans snapping up
bajillion tattered staind scribblings
indistinguishable from chicken scratch
interlaced with gobbledygook
(unbeknownst to John Doe
who faintly resembled me dead
drunken grizzled shabby skidrow
anonymous deceased wordsmith),
mortuary performed makeover
courtesy same Joseph and the
amazing technicolor dreamcoat
academy award winners
unexpected set couture club craze
suddenly everybody and their ilk
including grandmother goose, pink panther,
porky pig, Scoobie doobie do, ugly duckling...
triggered feverish buzz feeding frenzy
even cosmetic surgeons experienced
boomtimes, cuz ma
eternally sleeping pose
inspired cottage (cheesy) industry,
the global economy witnessed
unprecedented unsurge
ending world wide poverty.
She was going to visit her old auntie at 91 years
The sweet old aunt lived in her own home
in the town of Ostrow Lobelski in Poland
On the floor she found her body lifeless and cold
Her heart did not beat, and she was not breathing
Medical and police were called
The old auntie Janina Kolkiewicz was declared dead
After she had been in cold storage at a mortuary for 11 hours
she ensured that the employees got themselves a real shock
Body bags began to move - she was not dead
The niece says that when they came home
Janina asked for a hot cup of tea
she felt cold all the way into her body and soul
- This is a true story !!! -
16.11.2014
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Someone moved the rock
And the village’s Gypsies were in shock
Hearing it was a progressive move
They sat at the bar wondering if this could be proved
What was being blocked by this rock?
A question was asked
Each enjoying happy hour magic in their flask
Apparently inside the cavern
The Gypsies gossiped at the tavern
Someone had died
And placed him inside
Were there riches lay to rest with all his mortuary stitches?
After a few more rounds
They decided to go and see what could be found
Leaving the tavern they went to the cavern
When they arrived
With the goal to peek inside to see the person who died
The rock moved back
Nothing was open not even a crack
Someone must have tried
To seal up what was inside
Boy was this a mystery
Worthy of a place in the Gypsy’s history
A moving rock that put the Gypsies in shock
Someone inside the cavern down the street from the tavern
Upon returning to the reserved stools
They said through their drools
“This was weird”
“And was worthy of a toast with a their favorite beer”
Here we put the story to rest
Knowing rocks don’t move unless
There is going to be something to confess
Now take another shot of that Gypsy brew
Giving a celebratory respect to a spirit who now can be deemed true
"Resurrection of a sinner! "
I was lost in the streets, gave in to a life of lawlessness. Governed by cigarettes and booze.
Chasing after dirty skirts and lethal injections so lethargic they caused a time skip that made me miss out on the important stuff like mama's birthday, no hooray!
Woke up in a mortuary with no obituary late in January this got me worried.
The voices in my celeberum amplified to a point of sezing, sneezing and reaping the bad seeds l sowed.
I owed it to thy self to stand up, dust myself up and find myself.
Liquefied my demons and flushed them down the river Jordan for salvation.
Took papa's advice and turned my books and hooks into tools of success.
The Bible became my best friend, traded my pipe for a hymn of Psalms in order to see the light and never allow darkness to blind me again.
Meditating each and every time the serpent tries to tempt me, forever thankful to the Alpha and Omega through Jesus Christ for untying the rope that threatened to obliterate me.
Now l see my face on billboards, magazines, newspapers and all forms of media people crave to digest, my life now an inspiration for all.
Christ lionized my talents for flying ads so all can hear about his glory and power...
Amen!
HORRIFIC HIGHWAY
Driving at the speed allowed
On Highway N17, traffic ploughing,
Zig zagging, racing, and over taking
Accidents in the making,
Motor bikes screaming past,
Driving fanatically fast,
Showing off thinking it’s a blast,
A terrifying scene,
Spades, The queen
Of death on the road,
A taxi collides with a
Garbage truck,
Taxi overloaded, what
Incalculable bad luck, people just fly
As most the passengers die,
And garbage and muck,
Fall out of the truck.
Driver trapped underneath,
Fire men, paramedics
Try to pull him out from beneath,
Traffic police guiding cars, into
One lane,
For some, it will never be
The same,
As ambulances carry the
The injured away,
To perhaps see another day!
The dead covered with silver
Thermal blankets are waiting
For the mortuary van
Damn,
Don’t want to see any more,
Want to run,
But trapped in heavy
Traffic jam,
I want to scream and scram,
Suddenly the police open,
The road,
Other cars also broken,
But minor injuries
Thank God,
1st responders, I must
In awe, laud!
NON METERED TAXI’S IN SOUTH AFRICA ARE ALLOWED UP TO 15 PASSENGERS IN A MINI TAXI
AND UP TO 22 IN THE LARGER ONES – THIS WAS AN OVERLOADED MINI
TAXI – MORE OR LESS HALF THE PEOPLE SURVIVED. THIS OCCURRED JUST OUTSIDE
JOHANNESBURG
I am vulture
My soul case may be repugnant,
However, I have every sawbones decimal
On my speed dial
Before any croacker decrees justice
On a soul case,
They confer with me
My logbook contains a docket
Of every Golgotha and slaughterhouse on the planet
I am on first name basis
With every casket maker, mortuary Steward and proprietor
I am the fiend no soul case wants to see,
Hear or dream about
My name send's shivers down the spine of mortals
I am a friend in need and indeed;
I am the curator in every country
Where war and conflict thrive
No one thinks of me
And no one want's me as a pet
I am the dark one; the dark continent
I am vulture, the patient one
When my father-in-law passed away,
he was reached home within half an hour
He managed everything and went back only after last rites had finished
When my aunt passed away it was 1 o'clock at night
But he was there at mortuary helping us out
Again when my mother-in-law passed away he rushed in with all that was needed
That day I cried out of gratitude
He was a mere friend, office colleague of husband
He wasn't our relatives, he had no obligation to help
Yet he did, what a great soul.
He means much more to me than my own relatives
Whatever be my problem, whatever be the time,
There is one person whom I can depend upon for help.
Such souls are rare.
I will not say thank you to him.
I will help him the way he has done
That's the only way I can repay him.
Contest Name: Thanksgiving
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
Date: 11/3/2020