Funeral Prayer Poems | Examples
These Funeral Prayer poems are examples of Prayer poems about Funeral. These are the best examples of Prayer Funeral poems written by international poets.
The chair sits empty on the alter floor
Its arms holding memories unseen
Once carrying prayers, uplifting souls
Now a silent witness waiting in sacred stillness
A core hollowed where mercy stood
Longs for the return of the humility of Christ
A muted longing, poised for grace
Where absence rests seeping out into Alberti’s space
The alter listens as prayers of devotion rise
Filling the void with hope
Holiness prepares to pour back in
Like dawn returning after the thinning tortured night
Fullness shall dwell where emptiness reigns
Strength flowing upon the embroided papal cushion
The sun brushes the valley of the nave
Rosy light spills a quiet promise
Into the incense filled smoky sadness
A renewing earth breathing words still unspoken
Is alive in prayer
Lifting promises beyond the veil of death
Into the warming morning air
On the way to brother's funeral
I prayed not for the seeds of his soul
to root in the merciful soil of heaven
Mostly I prayed not to get a flat tire
it would have killed me to not arrive on time.
A five-mile drive from a yellowing motel
to the foot of a flat stone,
An angel swept both nail and glass
away from my salted path
and on to a slab called alone.
Aside his grave I played Bob Seger songs
I played them until recognizable arrived.
The cold gates of the blazing seventh circle
again open for one before another,
The mouths of the ground remain ajar
to snatch before heaven has barely given;
While the wind still thirsts for his breath.
As far as prayers go, I like mine hushed,
with my lips barely begging to be seen.
I tuck my tongue underneath my tongue,
and play true to the church mouse;
my hands at soldier’s attention.
Yet still,
I would parody a pose of praying mantis
and wail a thousand tongues
If a thousand tongues could speak
Ashes and dust back to flesh.
A friend of ours just passed away this year-
a special man within our senior set.
His daughter prayed to God that He may hear
her wish for signs her Dad- his Maker, met.
The service at the funeral was deep-
as holy scripts and soulful hymns were heard.
'Amazing Grace' brought tears, as some did weep;
the other song- its recognition, blurred.
This unique hymn was one her father chose-
to play when that time came to lift his soul,
with words and meaning that to him were close;
embracing death with peace- his final goal.
Then, at the grave, the Deacon ascertained,
he did not know that second hymn portrayed.
But, on the way, God's message was ordained!
That same hymn from his radio was played!
Our friend's dear daughter then believed for sure
that God had answered her lone, soulful plea!
"My Dad is with his Maker- blessed and pure;
God's message sent via this hymn, to me."
November 1, 2021
Contest: "S" Contest, New Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Theme: 4 - Soulful
True Story - Funeral was October 29, 2021
Glorified and sanctified
by all these tomes,
blessed and praised, exalted,
extolled and honored,
adored and lauded
in the name of these wondrous vintage books,
acclaimed
in the name of poetry and science fiction
and lost race adventures,
sorrows and consolations,
abundance and peace,
dreams and losses
and dreaming still in celestial libraries,
Amen.
Real heroes...sacrifice their lives...
Giving protection and peace in our hives..
Secular country,lost wealth of 42 warriors...
Leaving their families with heavy heart,
Almighty showers blessing in heaven.
Devastation of silent Pulwama with violence,
Changed Valentine day to black day...
Brought lump in our throat no way..
Bloods of Indians mixed up with anger and revenge...
To make surgical war against Pakistan..
A patriotic warrior to his mother....
"Don't quest for me, i will be back.If it's fate,
Ready for my funeral..."feels proud of your son...
Salute to his valor speech,nothing equalizes their sacrifice...
"JAI HIND"
Elegy for a little girl, lost
by Michael R. Burch
. . . qui laetificat juventutem meam . . .
She was the joy of my youth,
and now she is gone.
. . . requiescat in pace . . .
May she rest in peace.
. . . amen . . .
Amen.
NOTE: I was touched by this Latin prayer, which I discovered in a novel that I read as a teenager. I decided to incorporate it into a poem, which I started in high school and revised as an adult. From what I now understand, “ad deum qui laetificat juventutem meam” means “to the God who gives joy to my youth” but I am sticking with my original interpretation: a lament for a little girl at her funeral. This was my first translation. Keywords/Tags: Latin, translation, elegy, eulogy, epitaph, lament, prayer, hymn, joy, sorrow, grief, requiescat, pace, rest, peace, amen, death, funeral, grave, girl, daughter, sympathy
SHE WAS A SCHOLAR OF THE BIBLE,
WITH A BIBLE IN HER HAND.
SHE DID AN AWFUL LOT OF PRAYING,
FOR HER FELLOW MAN.
SHE WAS A SCHOLAR OF THE BIBLE,
AND SHE KNEW THAT BIBLE WELL.
SHE DID HER BEST AND PRAYED EACH DAY,
TO KEEP ME OUT OF HELL.
THE NEIGHBORS CALLED HE RPREACHER GIRL,
TO ME SHE WAS GRANDMA.
THE MOST PEACEFUL LOOKING WOMAN,
THAT I EVER SAW.
HER SMILE WOULD LIGHT THE DARKEST NIGHT,
WHEN SHE WOULD TURN IT ON.
AND WHEN SHE STARTED PREACHING,
THE WEAK BECAME THE STRONG.
THE POWER OF THE HOLY GHOST
WAS WRITTEN ON HER FACE,
AND WHEN SHE STARTED PREACHING
THE DEVIL LEFT THE PLACE.
A LUMP IS GROWING IN MY THROAT,
AS I SAY THESE WORDS TO YOU.
BUT I SWEAR BY ALL THAT’S HOLY
EACH WORD I SAY IS TRUE.
I WISH THAT I COULD SAY THE WORDS,
MY GRANDMA SAID TO ME.
AS I STAND HERE AT HER FUNERAL,
AND GIVE THIS EULOGY………….
”SHE WAS A SCHOLAR OF THE BIBLE”
>>
I paint pictures with words.
Her body lies in state before us now
Her last breath taken after a vow
As remarkable as any ever heard
Magnanimous in message; brief in word
As we gather to bid her farewell
Our broken hearts yet manage to swell
With pride at what she hath bequeathed
A gift for the ages, her conscience unsheathed
Looking on in awe as she, gathering her strength
Raising up on her pillow, pausing at length
Then straining her voice, sweet as a nightingale's
Pouring forth this prayer, ascending Lady Justice's scales
Dear Lord, please take me back to your garden
But first assure me that you will pardon
All the sins of those now gathered before me
For if you will not honor this, my fervent plea
~ I take upon myself all future suffering
Of these, my friends and family
And with that, she lay her head back on death's comforting pillow
As we stood silent, arms extended, touched by her soul -- weeping willows
June 23, 2019
Funeral, Eulogy, or Memorial Service Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Team Poetry Soup
Oh choir sing high
so all won't hear this dead man cry
Oh tears for me
won't wash me clean or set me free
Oh bed of death
no time to pray before last breath
Oh grave I pray
God take my soul my bones here stay
Oh pray you should
before you hear the dirt on wood
A Prayer Answered
I used to live in a bubble, fun filled and care free
But now my life is similar to autumn leaves under an oak tree
My daughter’s funeral music echoing from the brass band
Heap by heap her grave is filled with sand
“God how am I suppose too carry on?”
Death is so final, my daughter is forever gone!
She was so brave yet so small,
If fighting could be measured, she would stand tall
“God answer me, give me a sign!”
“And please don’t tell me it would all be revealed in time”
“My child why so angry, I answered you even before you asked.
Seven years ago, you married a brown eyed girl I assigned to a task.
She will be the pillow when you weep.
Share your nightmares when you can’t sleep
She will be your pillar of strength when you fall apart.
Pick up the pieces and carry in her pocket your broken heart.”
Through change’s thickets,
a frayed and scratched soul bare.
But when they wanted my kids,
trust, the antidote of despair.
Mercy the sickle upon thorns,
wielded by a noble prayer.
Surprised by an Aunt.
Took her funeral for me to find
her shine, testaments to
a paragon, the selfless kind.
Legacies bleed stains
as life’s pages, we bind.
A poetry community project
betrayed its own art to declare
that for gold’s empty promise,
others mocked and did not care
Vanity’s absolute abstracts
spilled soup, scalded many there.
To Love, when it has you fight
or allows the sight to endear.
For as the vapor is a life,
our memories to disappear.
All but the three enshrined,
from the harvest of this year.
--------------------------------------------
Contest: My abiding memory
Sponsor:Viv Wigley
Written: 01.09.16
After the funeral- mommy closed the door,
"Please play," she said," with your doll on the floor;"
On the bed, she wept a real downpour.
The room got dark as night,
Soon, I was in moonlight;
Under the bed I hid in fright.
I hugged my doll and I prayed to Jesus,
Jesus, I'm still wearing my fancy dress;
Me and dolly are in a terrible mess.
Jesus, can you help me,
Can you get my grannie;
She will make toast and tea.
Jesus, me and dolly are afraid,
I was real good, I obeyed;
Oh, how long under the bed have I stayed?
Grannie is here, she came quick no doubt,
I can hear her call my name, shout, shout;
Jesus, I will be okay, over and out.
Jesus, oh, can you wake mommy,
Wake up my mommy :
Mommy MOMMY M O M M Y . . .
Wake up!
__________________________
May 16, 2015
Poetry/Rhyme/Jesus, I'm Afraid
Copyright Protected, ID 05-674-629-16
All Rights Reserved, 2015, Constance La France
I Should Have Said a Prayer for You
I Put it off Too Long, I Guess
I Had a Million Things to Do
And You Were in a Real Mess
You Have to Know I Cared
It Just Breaks My Heart to Think
You Were So Low it Was Too Late
You Had Finally Reached the Brink
Now They All Say Prayers for You
Some Have Not Prayed Often
But for Me I Think It's Worse
As They Close the Lid upon Your Coffin
How Shall I Live with Me
I Called Myself Your Friend
But I Wasn't There for You
When You Reached the End
So If You Have a Friend
Be There If They Call
I'm Here to Tell You If You Don't
You Will Have No Peace at All
Connie Moore
August 16, 1992
A thought that commonly lingers into scope
A timeless hour left unprovoked,
A caged fury sullen in reaction & approach.
My final prayer I shed a single tear to numb its inner pain
For the kings and queens of the Earth;
That one day will bow to thee...
My final pray & plea,
Through a shoulder to cry is my clearest destiny
A loving thoughtful sigh or that of lulabye stream
The strong inner presence of an alibi scream
My final prayer,
In swift desolation in which to care
A captured response to share
As curious as a cat in heat
A small portion of dust from within
The silent whisper from a lonesome child
Such as the call of the wild,
Although it took time to silence the mind
A chosen vessel once torn is young
The mere inner quest of restitution,
In a pyramid of sorts with line drawn in the sand;
The nightingale fly's above
It's swift timeless chatter proned to light
A bird in asunder filtered in flight
To help warm the night
In the hopes to awaken a brand new day!