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I'm sick of burying my friends.

I'm sick of saying that I'm sick of burying my friends.

I'm sick of planning ******* candle light vigils.

I'm sick of funerals, sick of grief, sick of the hole in my chest that keeps getting bigger.

We are so young. How are so many of us already dead? Why is it that every few months, someone that I love leaves this Earth?

It's not fair.

I'm sick of saying it's not fair.

I'm sick of "I wish i got to see you under better circumstances, but I missed you." I'm sick of crying. I'm sick of watching friends and parents and spouses and children cry. I'm sick of reminiscing on stories and looking at photos from lifetimes ago, when things were simple and we were happy.

I'm sick of "they'll always be with you."

I'm sick of "they live on through us."

I wish they'd just live.
I sat beside the Thames on a Sunday,
The fling of my feet was a childish reflection,
The rotting wood pier a mirror of a stage,
But this time, the balcony held only Chevys
Exchanging pigments as they passed me by.

My sole spectator is a murky impression,
A visage of a woman trapped in the current
With her two feet tethered to mine at the ankles.

She doesn’t know that this is a funeral,
That I read the eulogy out loud in my head,
The cityscape whistled forgotten hymns,
And the sirens wailed like the echo of church bells
Reaping the moments that bloom and decay.

I laid to rest my guitar on the river bank,
Sand and silt filled the scars on its body
And suppressed the last odes that could pass through its strings.
Jamesb Jul 16
The worst part of a funeral is not the sombre faces,
Nor the awkwardness of people
Who know not how to be at such a time,
It's not the heavy sense of sadness and loss
That permeates the air or the brash jollity of those
Who over compensate,

It's not standing to eulogise my friend
In so few minutes
When he was so vibrant and ALIVE,
Nor seeing in my mind's eye his face
As he lay recumbent in the coffin's cushioned dark
And airless embrace,

Not the sobs that came in public as I sat
After giving his farewell my all,
My first eulogy and sadly probably not my last,
No, the worst, the most awful thing was the wet thump
Of roses red falling on his coffin lid,
I tossed a handful of dry earth,

It sounded better,
Seemed more fitting,
An example followed by others,
A better more respecttful
And indeed final fare well,
Rest now Damien

Rest in peace
I will see you soon enough
Steve Page Jun 30
I watched, fascinated, at each Stag standing,
legs splayed wide, chest expanding,
one hand playing pocket billiards,
the other cupping an imperial panetella,
or the odd ***-end of a king-sized silk cut.

I watched each **** strutting, squinting
against the improbably impressive smoke signals
emanating from a side grimace, indicating
not just contemplation of past glories,
and an absent kin,
but a surprising level of self-congratulation
and not solo signals, but a tribe-wide cloud of pride,
bellowing in resonance, creating a crescendo of
'you just know they would have loved this'
coupled with an elaborate semaphore display
that would put any plume of peacocks to shame.

My family gathered to mark their history,
to reinforce a crucial coupler of family territory,
to shout their quiet authority like ancient royalty,
as monarchs of this urban manor, their laughter
rising in assumptive victory, leaving no doubt
that this clan would face all future threats
with no more than 'a quiet word'
and a micro-assertion of their claim
over their ancestral turf.

I watched my forever-family,
my forever-England, planted secure
in my ever-after summer,
on this once green, scorched earth.
strong images from my teens - back when family loomed large
Bardo Jun 16
At a funeral recently I met a lot of people I hadn't seen in ages
Like from a hundred years ago (so it seemed)
What got me was, some of them it looked like they'd hardly aged at all
They looked....they looked nearly exactly the same
Now Me! I'd changed... I'd aged a lot
The trials and tribulations of this life had taken their toll
I said to one of them "Y'know you're still as young looking as I remember you
Is there some kind of Dorian Gray thing going on here
You don't have some mysterious portrait hidden away up in the attic"
I went on "Y'know you could do a movie and you could play yourselves
And when you go up to the attic and unveil the picture
Me! I could play the part of The Portrait staring back at you
You'd recoil in horror O! It's my true self, it's... it's so decrepit, so terrible looking (LoL)".

Me! when I look in the mirror all I see is a ghost
The very distant memory of a once beautiful looking kid.
A bit exaggerated this (I'm not that bad looking I think LoL) but this came into my head at the time, on seeing these youthful old mates of mine. The Feckers LoL.
Jaxey May 9
I was at your funeral
before you had given me a reason
to cry
My Dear Poet May 1
I will follow you
whereto you roam
I will follow you
all the way home
down the road
up the hill
along the river
by the mill
past the tin shed
that old shoe store
till I follow you
and go no more
to an open field
where a path unpaved
with stones unsealed
leads to your grave
Joseph Miller Apr 19
There she lay
In aged beauty
All passion spent
Now peace
In eternal sleep

She is gone
If we forget
The love she gave
Is ours to keep

We who knew her best
In life and in death
Are compelled by her noble way
To heed a greater love
Than that of flesh and blood

Let us sing her song again
Grateful is the key
Her spirit is ours
For all eternity
In memory of my mother who passed peacefully on 3:16 2021 into everlasting life
Bardo Feb 21
At a funeral recently, a cremation along with my young niece
Whose a Vegan and very environmentally conscious
I was telling her "I wouldn't like to be cremated, it's too much like 'going to hell' to me"
Then she says she'd like to be cremated herself, that it'd be her preferred choice, that it'd be the most environmentally friendly way to go
I said to her "Would you not like to be buried in one of those nice wicker basket type coffins that the environmental people like
I thought that's the kind of thing you'd be into"
She said No! I wouldn't like them, the thought of worms and other creepy crawlies crawling in on top of me, all over me Ugh! I couldn't bear that.

Oh I said, No! just give me a nice quiet church graveyard, lovely and peaceful
With the yew trees nice and shady and the birds singing softly, somewhere lovely and quiet way out in the country
It'd be so relaxing
"Well", she said,"you won't know, sure you'll be dead".
"My soul it'll be reposing", I corrected her cheerily.

Then I said "Y'know I think I saw this TV programme  once where you could have music playing in your coffin
Something over in America, could only be in America LoL
I went on dreamily, "Y'know I think I'm getting younger as I grow older
I've put away all my old Black Sabbath records
Now I've started listening to Taylor Swift instead, she has some great songs that girl, great videos too
I think I'll have Taylor Swift singing to me in my coffin
I'll go boppin' into the next world, the next life with Taylor, hand in hand
I could even put some posters of her up on the inside of my coffin.

Look! I said to my niece pointing to a few hairs on the front of my head
I think my quiff it's starting to grow back again. Elvis here I come!!!
Graves and funerals and the Sabbs LoL. Death is a part of Life, it comes to us all eventually.
Lawrence Hall Feb 11
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                     The Morning of the Funeral

Mostly waiting. Coat and tie, Sunday shoes
Quiet conversation. How was your breakfast
Who’s driving the cousins to the airport later
Do the animals have water and food

He’s in a better place now. Have you got the readings
Sunlight slanting to the floor where the puppies sleep
Who’s going to unlock the church for the flowers
Who wants a breath mint. Are we ready to go

I’m glad we’re having a Mass. Fr. Ron is so good
Mostly waiting. Coat and tie, Sunday shoes
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