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Kevin J Taylor Oct 2015
pine is for leaving
oak is for time
willow, for grieving
love left behind
This verse lies in the grave
of an Englishman
who left for home
from a borrowed land.
.
Bye Dad.


.
Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry from common things.)
A Mummers Funeral

Time slip't, a careless moment, words without thought or foment.
No smile, no glance, no touch, nor care
none of these things so fair,
was ever thought or brought to share.

I've gaps in my memory,
And holes in my shoes.
not enough time,
Too much *****.
Nothing left of strength and toil.
The grapes of wrath? That wasted soil!

But for the Ghosts of Things unsaid,..
Shadows host the Deeds Undone.
Bare walls and plank't floor,
cobwebs of nothing more.
A Home empty; a house.. a shack,
a time-worn agent my soul to wrack.
Shadows flitting through
cobwebs in the corners of my mind.

I've holes in My memory,
And Gaps in my Blues.
Too much time,
And Not enough *****.
V May 2017
the next time you'll see me,
would be attending my party
as I am lowered slowly
while everyone says they're sorry
to the smiling me.
Simone Zona Oct 2017
They carry the body out at 5.37 p.m on a Sunday.

Cloaked under shadows of cloth, in the blackness of
Death.

We lay dead-empty as we watched.

They hovered with bleached masks and lay hands, cold,
On the still colder flesh, They pressed flesh on flesh,
Imagined life in hallowed cheeks,
They tried to bring more out of 63 kg of
Flesh and bone, spoke to break the seal of death  
With remembrance

The body rotted below the cloth
The body grew stiffer, colder
And nothing more
Inspired by writings of Hughes
Robert Ronnow Aug 2015
The circle closes over the dead woman's space.
Family and community heal, the scar tissue
between a young girl's *******. She had
shared conversations with my father about
the holes in their hearts. My heart, the
muscle, not the spirit, flutters when a
young girl bikes by or the heron flies.

By September flies are down, we can come
out of our canoes and risk the woods. Summer's tissue
is torn each night. Space above gives perspective
to the life one had. Jesus speaks your name?
And is Beatrix now traveling astronomy's corridors
at the speed of light, aware of herself, to the blessed heart?
Durante too is moving on, wayfaring with his virgil.

Much of the family gathered. My grandfather, Bart,
it was remembered sold his house to none other than Duke
Ellington and Lena Horne lived up the block. Andrew
played with her daughters, sons. Until every Italian
had moved east into Long Island, thinking themselves
better than blacks. I find each and all --
Hindus, Muslims -- hard-earned bone and prone to ache.

We are most happy the dead one's not us.
The chosen one, the unfortunate one, the
one whose name Jesus spoke, is gone
and is no longer one of us. She is the other,
as distant and separate from the family
as a black man or Hindu's sister. Missed less
than last night's sleep or meat and grateful

for such peace. I will be too if it won't
come too soon or too often. My observation is
54 or 84 you always seem to want more
what was accomplished or never finished isn't
enough. Greedy, overweight and blameworthy
is how I've felt about every wasted day.
Summer's tissue torn by the first frost night.

Judging by her feet, Judith will be a big
woman, great granddaughter of Bartholomew,
who sold his redlined house to Duke. See how she
stands near her mother, Jeanette, who
resembles so fiercely my grandmother, Concetta.
The circle closes over the dead woman's space.
Summer's tissue is torn, the family is lace.
www.ronnowpoetry.com
remington carter Oct 2016
morphine. i found ashes in the pages of the photo albums under
my bed yesterday, leaves turned red pages to the colder chapters
and i thought you could still grow a rose this time of year but then i
remembered when we used to make flower crowns in sixth grade so
i took some morphine;
it helped with the pain

the night is younger than ourselves and we run through breakspears road shattering the lampposts with our bare hands, yes we are the new generation! everybody knows we aren’t scared of losing the pieces in our own, we just want to see the skin pulled off the tips of our fingers! (when you’ve been feeling the blunt edges of scalpels and needles all your life walking on glass starts to feel like heaven)

codeine— hell is getting hotter! she took to the clouds and the glass
shards wrote crimson sonnets on the bottoms of her feet, marietta i
trusted you i really did, i made you promise
that you’d stay; not with me, of course
(some things are more important in the end)
i wanted you to stay here.
but you wanted to see the stars so
i choke down the cough syrup;
one ache distracts me from the other

dear marietta,
the light distorts so strangely here in the water.
this is how i want to leave this place
sorry i use way too many parentheses whOOPS
Francie Lynch Sep 2018
We stood in a circle in the parlor,
Jim was chatting with his golfing crones;
Her body was there for the viewing,
But we're keen on his hole-in-one.

We gave him our proud approval,
We chorused, Jim, well-done!
Then Jim took his turn on the kneeler,
To ponder before her coffin.

We all know the cold humility,
That an ace needs a load full of luck;
Yet we're pleased to hear all his details,
From the crack off the tee,
To the flag in the cup.

I waited for my turn behind Jim,
I overheard his solemn words:
... an eight iron... bounced once, then straight in...
Oh, and may you rest in peace too, Mrs. Hobin
.
RIP Mrs. Hobin. She was the mother of one of the lads in my foursome. Lived a long life, raised a great bunch of kids.
Charley Dzienis Dec 2014
A child cries over
a hard candy fallen
from his mouth,
little black suit,
a heads length over his chair.

He doesn’t mourn
Like his mother.
Why should he?
The world is chaos.
He cries therefore
he breathes,
he doesn’t understand
the dead are only
memories.


you left this world
with no last words
it was too early
or maybe too late

i cried a little
but not enough
a tear went down

from my eyes
to my lips
the bitter taste
of a single tear

no feelings felt
no attachments dwelt

my soul
a lost hole
death
my last breath

when will we ever meet
when will we ever bleed

hand in hand
until the very end
My grandfather passed away, I see all those people around me are sad I should be sad but I'm not
Anne Webb Nov 2016
I dressed all in black today
but for an actual reason this time,
I though she was about to die.

And all I could do was cry,
so much that my eyes turned red
hurting as though I was going blind.

And she was so strong,
and it made me feel proud,
more than anything ever before.

We looked at each other
and she didn't shed any tears,
yet I could see the pain in her eyes.

And in that moment
I begged her, please don't go,
don't leave me in this world all alone.

My prayers were answered.

*She's still alive.
Thank you, I love you very much. Yours forever, Anne.
kevin hamilton Jan 2018
molten i woke
to your understated
outro song
crowded at the corpse door
with the curtains drawn
and only briefly wishing
phantom pain
on endless vigils
for a swollen soul

sealed the crypt
your moonlit recital ceased
to no applause
Train of Thought Sep 2017
Love me for who I am.
But when the time comes
for me to end,
Let me be among the dead;
Leave me in the grave.

Keep me in your memory;
don't speak wealth
to my name.
Know that I'm gone forever
Forever, far away.

Love me for who I am;
Leave me for who
I will be.

But when I no longer am,
leave me be
within the grave.

If you love me for who I am,
Let praise be spoken
where praise is due;
Know this however:
I am no perfect man.

Don't try to bring life
to these dead bones.
Don't bring me back to life;
don't speak of my name.

I did not ask to seek fame.

If you love me,
keep this commandment
I give thee:

Don't worship me
nor pay tribute
merely in word or song.
But keep me in your memory
and if you want to honour me,
live honourably, not in vain.

Don't lie to yourself.
Don't think I dwell
in the heavenly heights
even though I may be.
Only God determines my fate;
He alone seals my destiny.

Don't weep for me
but for yourselves
and for your children.

And if you love me,
repent and live!
See the Glory
I've shown to you,
though not of my own.

If you love me,
love me for who I am,
and be thankful
when I am gone.
For my funeral.
Khoi-San Aug 20
Where mothers wail,
family, friend, and foe
gather in last respect
and jovial sadness,
greeted by whiskey and tea, in the aftermath of moths wearing black vails, stepping on flytrap petals,
walking down the aisle of the pallbearers wedding.
Tommy Randell Nov 2016
Today at the funeral of Reason
We stand by the graveside of Hope
The future is a funnel of darkness
And we ride the slippery *****

Bring back the Anarchist child
I was when I was young
When mine was the fist of progress
That would blacken the eye of the Sun

Give me the button to press
Let me be the judge of Mankind
I will gladly burn in the fire
If the will to be done is mine

When Faith is a weapon of War
When Words are a wall of Hate
When the Innocent are tortured in silence
When the Torturers are Rulers of State

When Democracy is judged by it's Failures
When Republics are pedlars of Greed
When Dictators play chicken with missiles
When Truth is bombed 'til it bleeds

Then I get this angry and vengeful
Then I want you all to be *******
You wont suffer the Weak and the Needy
Why should they suffer for you?

Let it end it in one great conflagration
Let us stub out this cigarette of Life
Let no Church, no safe congregation
Save You wherever you hide

Let some other microbe on some other World
Get it's act together and give it go
You can scream all you want in the darkness
But in Life the Dead get no vote.

Tommy Randell 15th/16th November 2016 (15 mins either side of Midnight)
Some poems make themselves, somewhere in the head & heart. This one came out as fast almost as I could type it. An angry polemic born out of our times - Ah, the old curse ... may we live in interesting times. Not like me to be such a Megalomaniac ... it seems a modern trend.
James Court Apr 2018
here's to the girl who caught his eye
the one he never had
always in his back of mind
forever dormant, undefined
but ever since they said goodbye
the thought had grown sad
the one he never had
here's to the girl who caught his eye
aye, the girl who caught his eye

here's to the girl who broke his heart
the girl he loved and lost
there for him when no one was
who stuck around him just because
before she ripped the world apart
and lived to see the cost
the girl he loved and lost
here's to the girl who broke his heart
aye, the girl who broke his heart

here's to the girl who loves him still
the girl who never strayed
through thick and thin she spurred him on
and even though he now is gone
and left her nothing in the will
she stands there, poised and staid
the girl who never strayed
here's to the girl who loves him still
aye, the girl who loves him still
Alex Gifford Sep 4
If I die today,
Speak nothing more than truth,
I didn't die a hero,
I didn't miss my youth.

My legacy in fire,
Burn away the chaff,
not the greatest man you knew,
But missed the makers wrath.

So say "he's a broken light
that craved to mend himself.
He trusted in the Lord who saves,
considered Him true wealth."
I don't want people to pretend I'm a greater person than I actually am when I die. But to remember me with complete honesty, as a flawed person who felt a need for God.

Thanks for reading.
Austin Ryskamp Aug 2018
Laughter jaded by the debris of frowns
Glee of seeing my cousins, spun into a web of pain!
This reunion is a funeral for the lost
Basically the dead, because she won’t return again!
Every person looks into my eyes and I can tell
That everyone else is also in Hell
Just wondering what had to of happened
For there daughter, niece, grandchild to have such a blackened heart.
But please i’m trying to move on
Already starting in the direction of healing and that makes me insane!?
Is the core confusion in conversation around the dinner table, seating forty five
“Please everyone we will all survive”
I say it loud but barely believe it myself
This was supposed to be a party, but turned into a part of me leaving.
Feeling like I’ve only been disappointing
That I messed up something
I’m reassured that the tears are not my doing
Family reunion two months ago was basically a funeral. Everyone was so sad about my ex wife leaving me.
Billie Oct 9
Suave hair
Sharp suit
Glinting buttons
But your hands,
They're wrong
Posed.
Anad not by you
Its a block of ice.
Where have you gone?
Jenay Jarvis Mar 2018
You sleep now
Soundlessly,
Memories that make us remember-
Early mornings, the smell of school, crisp clothes, the fall of your jewelry, the sound of your shoes.
It's immaculate.
I can see it.
(and) Seeing you weak makes me weak.
As if the loss of one is the loss of many
And it is.
A tribute to my grandmother who passed this morning.
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