"urned" poems
Dad didn't want a coffin.
"Cremate my last remains,"
And so we did.
Cool and dry,
His ashes, urned,
Lie beneath the sod
And prairie sky
Waiting some clarion call,
Some trill of hope,
Bright, re-constitutional,
Faith-affirming.
Mother's wishes rise before us:
No crematory,
No embalmer.
Just her blanket,
Just a hole
Dug beside our Dad.
The law would let her wish be true,
But her children won't.
We're searching coffin plans.
Reverently grim,
Lovingly deferential,
Dutifully rebellious,
Solemn this journey be.
Pine boards to honor her thrift
But smooth and tight,
Rope handles, fitted lid,
Perhaps a little trim,
Perhaps a sheaf of wheat carved
For the old farmer she was.
We'll bury her,
Wrapped in her blanket,
Tucked securely in pine
Beside my father's ashes.
Like a grain of wheat she'll lie
Silent in her final say
Inside our final say
Waiting Resurrection Day.
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 6:11 PM UTC
.
She gazed upon †he grea† expanse,
sof† sand hid small †oes on her fee†.
A deser† daisy gen†ly caressed her hands,
†he sunshine made her day comple†e.
She walked alone on this beautiful day.
This li††le angel had jus† †urned seven.
†o ga†her her momma a fresh bouque†,
for some reason has lef† her for Heaven.
Each flower was burdened with a clump of dir†,
I wi†nessed the swee†es† †hing †oday.
I had cried and wiped †ears on my shir†,
when my mind said †o jus† walk away.
"Daddy, can Jesus le† her come ou† †o play?
How do you answer a young girl of seven?
"Jus† like we did †he o†her day."
"We can, when we ge† †o Heaven."
.
Feb 14, 2010
Feb 14, 2010 at 10:35 PM UTC
it all rings through me like tinnitus.
this is why I don't come home. every
where else hosts a myriad of other w
orlds to become intermingled with - p
laces to lead myself away from the so
ur crystal of my mind. now it's dim a
nd no one expresses love to me. I am a
lone, gazing at the facebook dash like
an approval ***** - unaccepted. loiter
ing around in other peoples lives and th
ey don't really want me. i don't want m
e either. i become afraid to bring it up -
that i enter my room and see your smile
slice through the darkness in recognition
that
these are the same sheets we lay on toget
her. i begin to contemplate your words i
have fallen out of love with you and i de
serve it. i still consider suicide an option as
i think of everything you did to dice my so
ul into smaller portions you could swallow,
digest, and **** out like they all meant noth
ing. i gave you everything, i gave you every
inch of my darkness on a white fine dine ch
ina plate and it was because you were more
than my lover - you were my best friend an
d significant other. i shared it all with you - t
urned over every single rock and illuminated
every nook and cranny only to understand th
e shattering honesty of love. *you hold my ver
y essence to my temple like a pistol and strip e
very inch of me bare but it's only because i let y
ou and it's only because i deserve it and every w
ord you uttered makes me gaze in the mirror wi
th disgust and the thought that silence lies where
silence rides and it's where the ride is over.
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 10:22 PM UTC
"How.Angels.Turned.Evil"
The cure to healing is Realing…
The cure to seeking (sicking) is reading
The cure to P.A.I.N. is the above
And so the cure to H.A.T.E. is L.O.V.E.
Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 2:01 AM UTC
It's not natural.
If I can't smell it,
It ain't,
So don't tell me
It's as natural as birth.
You've seen the roadkill,
Deer missing the most natural of parts,
Lying in the strangest contortions;
Heard the bird
Breaking its neck on a window;
Then there's the gaping mouth,
Eyes staring most unnaturally.
To be burned and urned
And feel nothing.
Having a steak and beer
Is natural;
Sitting in sound at a McCartney concert
Is supernatural.
Expensive, but sensient.
But it,
It's most unnatural.
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 8:30 PM UTC
Your hands felt like my own skin.
I couldn't tell
if you were dead already,
or if it's just heavenly
being around you.
Your happiness radiating
and your face,
with the sun looking at it through the shades
one last time before you're burned
and urned to be spread among the rocks
without your name in stone,
it was blinding me.
I couldn't bare to look.
But now,
it's hard not to see you.
What's after death?
Phone calls on seashells
without having to let it ring,
I'll always pick up immediately.
Our connection will resemble rain.
When my life gets cloudy,
you'll come down to help me.
You've always been there.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 6:40 AM UTC
Mummy mummy where are you.
Mummy mummy why do you hate me.
Mummy mummy do you know how much I cried and urned to be snuggled up against your side.
Mummy mummy I hate you and you know why.
Mummy mummy if you died I would not cry.
Mummy mummy riddle me this can you guess why hear this evil voice inside.
Mummy mummy could you have done more?
Mummy mummy when you come to my dads grave on the day we lowered him from life.
Mummy mummy I wish it was you not my dad in the sky.
Mummy mummy why?
Mummy mummy I don’t need you.
Mummy mummy I hate you.
Mummy mummy because of you I can’t find love nor peace.
Mummy mummy I’m wondering if you admitted the wrong you done In my life.
Mummy mummy all I wanted was a mummy in my life.
Mummy mummy here’s the rope and you’ve given me the height.
Mummy mummy good night.
Aug 2, 2019
Aug 2, 2019 at 2:13 PM UTC