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Logan Robertson Jan 2020
It all went up in smoke
puffs of black
rising above the smokestacks
rising to the sky
one at a time came their turn  
of matters to ash

Logan Robertson

1/06/2020
Jazz May 2019
Let the ocean swallow me up
And the sky take me away
Scatter me in a place where birds sing
And flowers lay

Let my spirit fall through your fingertips
And sink into the ground
Let the wind whoosh and whirl
While it whisps me around

Let the sun absorb my ashes
And in the treetops I will sway.
When I die take me everywhere
And everywhere
I shall lay.
Darryl M May 2019
Spotlights of love shine upon you from all fellas.
If mine be blinding, would you fall for me?

I want to be that too good to be true moment in your life.

My thoughts on you are an investment,
But feel like an expense.
I’ve been looking for ways to cut corners.
Your love curved in on all corners.

Patience I don’t have.
But you nourish what my heart withers.

When my feet walk not,
Would you step down on me?
Would you roll down and lay dead my heart?
Or would you be the crutches of my heart,
Step by step, reviving me?

Things grown old are young of death,
But I see your coffin next to mine.
I see a unified tombstone.

If I opened the closet and revealed the skeletons of the heart.
Would it be cremation to my love?
Or would you be an everlasting flame?

Do I love? I don’t know.
But the heart echoes pumps to your love.
Em MacKenzie Apr 2019
I took my nails and buried them deep in my skin,
created paths and trails just to let me back in.
I haven’t known healing, maybe one day I’ll begin,
instead I’ll drown in feeling even though the water left is thin.

So take your worn out excuses
and your words that hold no weight.
I’ll be striking matches and lighting fuses,
‘cause a fire sign only knows one fate;
a blaze burning great.

Don’t mind the crying, and pay no mind to the ties,
I know when you’re lying before you even realize they’re lies.
Now a picture has been painted of a world with only one pair of footprints,
a reference that’s been tainted and shaded by the darkest tints.

So change your act just like your handles,
and there’s no morality to debate.
I’ll be striking matches and lighting candles,
‘cause a fire sign only knows one fate;
but I’ll still have to wait.

This dent in my shell;
another scar from a war
or maybe from Hell,
who can tell, anymore.
This dent in my shell;
another scar from a war
it didn’t bleed or swell,
but you know, that it’s sore.
This dent in my shell;
another scar from a war
this one is my death knell,
it shattered me down to the core.

I’ve had my heart broken so many times,
that I’m depleted of metaphors and running out of rhymes.

I took my nails and buried them deep in my skin,
created paths and trails just to let me back in.
I’m growing too old each day to never gain a win,
but you know they say nothing gold can stay, maybe next time I’ll stick with tin.

‘cause a fire sign only knows one fate;
it’s our defined trait and state.
‘cause a fire sign only knows one fate;
cremate and annihilate.
voodoo Apr 2019
the shoulders are the dampest,

soaked with exchanged comfort and bittersweet grief.

amidst the mourning there’s always the systematical process of the farewell –

the only way to guide us to the true end.



we do it with fire

to purify, to cleanse, to return to dust.



we kindle affections, relations, intentions,

and nurture a flame that always grows out of control,

leaving loss and lament to burn our hearts.



condolences blur into a soft hum,

nothing unites us in our differences but

sometimes it only takes the pathos of cremation to realize that

ashes, ashes, we all fall down.
Larry Kotch Jun 2018
Ash
I carved your name into trunks,
And sent you down the river in a hurry,
You were silent then, no anxious digs or hearty laughs,
We poured our hearts and you just disappeared.
Just behind the leaves and then I lost you
Though I know we had said our goodbyes,
I expected more time than smoke and rays.

And so I came back home with less family,
Though you, a child, were adopted by the kindest mother;
The paintings you had made of her,
I see them through your eyes,
I rub them as your colours fly,
When the woodland ended and meadows welcomed me back;
I saw your visions come to life.
This Poem is about nature welcoming back a loved one when you spread their ashes in a special place. In my case this was my Grandmother who was a very keen painter of the countryside. The Woodland where her ashes were spread represent the feminine and chaos from death. The carving and meadows are the link from this sad place back to the orderly world from where she painted and where I knew her.
Bridget Crooks May 2018
In loving memory of the old me,
I am deceased, gone, I’m history.
Faded away but still breathing,
Fighting the urge of really leaving.
My public persona is laid to rest,
Was prepped, embalmed and dressed,
Laid in a hole, deeper than six,
A permanent solution with no easy fix.
Or better yet, I was cremated,
Burnt, diminished and completely degraded.
What was left, my cremains, were put in a box
And shoved on a shelf like a broken clock.
Either way, it doesn’t matter,
Be it the first or be it the latter.
Burial or cremation, the cost is the same,
One human soul, only a memory to remain.
Quinn Apr 2018
i wasn't tired until you
fell into my arms

and i wasn't tired until
i threw a thousand
weightless snowdrops
to the ground

and i didn't hurt until
the first word
and now
my home is a loud
roar of reverberations
that pass through me

(like a million spoken knives)

and i didn't understand
pain. Until your somebody
stumbled into me

and i couldn't let go
(because they were made of ash)

and i felt the weight
of so many somebodies
(suddenly)

and i began
to think

that - my existence
(the sea
the sky
and the nothing between)
manifested to
pulverize
the
planet
with
each
further
strained
breath
until
it
can
feel
each
pinprick
loss
of
life
it
enforces.

And maybe my rage
forged bellowing
stormclouds over deserts
or made rivers flow backwards
from storm surge (tear driven)
but the somebody i'm not

and the somebodies i carry

will never
be more threatening
than a fadeaway
wind that cries with the lone
wolf.
Dawn Nov 2017
All White

Such a long walk
That took seconds
Down the hall to see
You
White
White is all I saw
Head to toe covered
Except your reddened face
The crematory man
Said you'd be discolored
All I saw was you
In the yard
Sitting in the Star Wars room
Blue electric guitar
And bass lines
With or without you
And I learned
That life is fragile
And you looked it too.
I prayed and prayed
And sent my words
To the heavens
And felt the sky
Open up and swallow
My tears and pleas
Some writings
A Lock of hair
And a visual memory
Is what I left with
And will carry with
Me
Till my day comes
When they all walk in
And all they see white
All white...
About seeing my cousin in the crematorium before he was to be cremated. We were allowed a viewing. He died from hypothermia because he was homeless and a vet. He had paranoid schizophrenia which is why he would not allow us or docs to help him. He thought we were trying to **** him. He was in the Air Force for years and developed it during that time. He was only in his mid 40’s and we were very close bf he became ill. Rip Corky.
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