Short Mortuary Poems

Haven
Ossuary
Mortuary
Embryo...

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A Guesthouse
For space citizens
Before take-off...

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Washed up on the beach

Laid out on a mortuary slab



My entry into Brian's " SPACES " contest...

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Be not sad,
Be joyful and glad
Listen to Tchaikovsky not Mahler
Throw a party
Laugh and eat hearty
At the Happy Smily Funeral Parlor....

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Our morticians are thanking their god
For a year where they all earned a wad
Though some were burnt
Many more weren't
Still, their best work lies under the sod!...

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In the game, 
to the winner,
the victory,
to the loser
the defeat... !
At the finale of life,
 the same prize
and reward:
The mortuary coffin,
means of transport
to eternal life...!...

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Heather’s heartless husband
lies on the mortuary slab;
his eyes glazed over like a dead salmon.
She’d always said he was a cold fish …
but he’s stiff - at last!

08/26/20...

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I am not holier than the mighty men lying in the mortuary,
Yet you gave me the grace to sweetly sing in your sanctuary.
Your arms around me are mightier than any army or armory.
If not for your love, oh Lord, it would have been on the contrary....

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dark whispers took shape
                                         shadowy mortuary chamber
                                              footsteps died away










dark whispers
Copyright© RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY
12 November, 2014...

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An ambulance screeches to the hospital entrance,
In a mortuary van lies’ the father, such a senseless
Accident - child bleeding is rushed into theatre
The surgeon arrives’ goes up the elevator,
Sees patient, this is my son, operating would be reckless!...

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Who told you to come 
or to shake your rump? 
  
Not me, I'm just over 
here, drinking some punch. 
  
It's safe to assume you've 
got some things to say 
  
Well, I'm deaf, so 
have a field day. 
  
My harem is full, sorry. 
Maybe I could use you at the mortuary....

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Why is it called ECSTASY – your two friends lie in a mortuary.

I wrote this poem for my son who was devastated after the death of his two schoolfriends, it is dedicated to the memory of brothers Jacques and Torin Lakeman aged 19 and 20 who were found dead  2nd December - gone but always in my heart.

3rd December 2014...

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With queries and questions
for a year-long protracted night,
understanding came in a instant,
I believed.

       Going home, alone, accompanied 
       by a weird, unfamiliar light;
       I drove off a familiar cliff.
       They bereaved.

Instead of  mortuary, a mansion
designed by spirit, not by might
I’m home amid thousands 
well- received....

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Hilltop tomb
Old crypts ruin
Grave robbers den
Home of unforgiving 
Cracked wall
Mortuary 
Side disturbed
Unnecessary
Mother and child
Sleep till the end
And when you dig
The sleep you kill
The dream you steal
Someday will
Saturate your dreams
Haunted by lost screams
Torturous beings
Rabid things
The hole that you dug
Came out through your soul...

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Techno-scramble
the ramble of cars on sheet metal
Tall walking for sledge hammer rhythm

The dialysis of t.v. dramas
and hospital soup delivered on time
A team of managers examine

Mortuary
Dead before what could have been
Electromagnetic heart transfer failed

Before the soul left the bed
Whirring of gadgets promised
Earthly pulses and show tunes
As lungs gave out...

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On her face the portrayal:
Was undeserved betrayal:
While resting in mortuary;
Later in her obituary.
But her photo had come first:
A scream-it-to-The World thirst.
 
But I have my own challenge:
What would finding a thing change?
Lies that could break a strong heart:
She’d shoplifted in a mart?
Or whisper desultory
Alleging adultery
“Man had been a betrayer,
Her face ‘not First Soothsayer…”...

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Mortuary is a place full of hope
They pray for an opportunity
That one day they go there
To live forever quiet peace
In freedom from noisy men
And troubling world of the living
Its heaven for the dead
Praying to the Almighty
Not to vacate it at all
For dangerous lonely hole
That knows no visitor
The place without festival of laughter
Mortuary is a place full of hope
For both the living and the departed...

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I can this say about Rancor:
Not where Lord God’s Heaven anchor. 
Self have I flung at blind squabble 
And home returned with fat trouble!
My forgiveness tradition bent;
The implacable one for rent…
	
We stop living when dead angry
The blood-thirsty for Red hungry 
“Pay J shall his mortuary bill
And corpse cross intervening hill!”

But what of Heaven’s Gate Saints cross?
If you don’t, it is a great loss....

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A VISIT TO THE MORTUARY
Makinde Adebayo Adeniyi

Sleeping on the slab
Surrounded by kith and kin
In a conference of blab
No thought of sin
All opinions in the bin
Naked like a newborn 
Helpless like a lost chick
No thought about the morrow 
Dreams and aspirations long forgotten 
Intoxicated by silence 
None to see her fears
The future wrapped in loneliness 
Like a disappointed uterus 
Here ends the journey....

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The lure of the inky depths
of the dark web...
too much temptation
for innocents out for a good time

Were they foolhardy 
or simply naïve
sadly for them
unsupervised 
there was no stop sign

I guess they couldn’t resist
the attraction of illicit drugs
posted through their door
by an unsuspecting mail man

Grieving parents
still mourn the loss
of two beloved sons
Their final resting place
an ice cold mortuary slab...

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Witch hazel jumps the 
gun. Questions arise.
Why the cuckoo will not sing today ?

I am drumming the wall
raised between us,
opening a small window towards the sea.

Strange things happen.
Full moon was bleeding
Astringent. I call for the mountain’s music.

This fractured statecraft.
You become a stone after a blast;
moving towards the periphery.

Half-naked a statuette
was walking in night to find a 
mortuary where Apollo was laid to rest.


Satish Verma...

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There is a fact known,
A fact not meant to be so.
A fact we know,
Though here we fight for it being better.
For literature, I am seeing her  in a coma,
And writing in a mortuary
While I did see Drama insane,
I see prose, bedridden,
Then for poetry, I weep,
For she is at her grave side.
Someone should help her, I pray,
Maybe us, I think.
My best I attempt,
But would it be enough?
I ask.
For all it need is a miracle.
A miracle strong and powerful.

KANU EKPEZU...

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The picnic at december end
The mob in the party
Restively chanting to God
For their healthy mortal 
existence

Tick tuck tick the tickling clock
The expected desire reached
Happy new year choruses
Roaring among the mob to the 
air

Hisses from the mouths of 
lovers
Warmth in the cold
From hugs
Clitterings in the air from 
knockout

Boom bang from a missileous 
knockout
Overwhelmed the varieties
The melancholic tune changes
From the fire ablazing...

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There is no one else to blame
	for how my life has turned out, but me.
I could change and be like everyone else
	only seeking the pleasure of the moment;
But I’ve found little comfort in it,
And the pain of loneliness soon returns.

So, I should be proud of the man
	that I’ve become.
Yet, I find myself struggling to do so.
Am I looking through life with 
	the eyes of a child (believing in dreams and not seeing reality).
Then please don’t wake me because
life is hard as it is…...

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He lived a life of such greatness
And did not die a thousand deaths
To all souls he brought happiness
Even as he breathed his last breath


© Joseph, 8/12/07
© All Rights Reserved


 
Epitaph is a commemorative poem inscribed on a tombstone or mortuary 
monument written in praise of a deceased person.  Generally, epitaphs are 
small poems with rhyming lines written in reflection of the deceased person’s 
life.  They are not always somber and some are very humorous and witty....

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