What poem would you chose for your own funeral service?

Question

To rousseau and kikime: is that a specific poem or do you mean limericks, in general?

Answer 1

mine would be ~

happiness was the sunshineing with a cool breeze

it is our destiny to pass this life with eaze

death is not ment to mourn

for everyone has thier turn

do not cry for me

i lived my life

yes there was some strife

but i was happy

so smile to for soon you will see

love the life you have

for life is fleeting fast

and do not let it slip past

make time for smiles

take walks that last for miles

enjoy today  

Answer 2

Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am in a thousand winds that blow,

I am the softly falling snow.

I am the gentle showers of rain,

I am the fields of ripening grain.

I am in the morning hush,

I am in the graceful rush

Of beautiful birds in circling flight,

I am the starshine of the night.

I am in the flowers that bloom,

I am in a quiet room.

I am in the birds that sing,

I am in each lovely thing.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there. I do not die.  

Answer 3

life is thus

death is thus

poem or no poem

what's the fuss?

Answer 4

I agree limericks!

Answer 5

Limericks...you can't go wrong.

Answer 6

It's been grand to meet with people

    from mountain tops to shores

to most it's been my pleasure

    for some...the pleasure's yours.

Answer 7

This is the one I wrote.

Evicted

Son and daughter, I am gone.

My body no longer cared

to house my soul.

Tired, needing rest,

I was evicted,

lease expired.

It’s alright to be sad now,

but please be glad, too.

For now I can be many things.

Like…

the sunflower posing,

or willow dancing,

the water lapping,

or a cool breeze,

and the special glow

of a warm sunset.

So many things…

to remind you,

remind you of

our special times…

together.

Evicted? Scoff at that!

Freed from a shell,

a shell, eroded.

I soar now. Feel me,

feel me near,

always.

Answer 8

i would make my own

Answer 9

The Old Salt was a special man

who came along in a time

when he was needed most.

A time that is now gone forever.

When men believed and sacrificed,

when hero’s walked the earth in mass.

When patriotism was not just a word

but,

by what men lived and judged

the worth of each,

a man who lived a life

most of us cannot comprehend.

An era now gone

as this warriors tour of duty ends

at this station, and begins anew

in the heavenly fleet.

Sail on Sailor into your unaccompanied tour,

we salute you.

What greater honor, that when a man moves forward,

he leaves behind in each of us

the best of what he was.

A defender, protector, supporter, victor, a warrior,

the last of the breed from an era

when ships were made of wood

and men were made of steel.

The Old Salt  has reported for duty

that takes him away from us for now.

Those of us who remain behind,

remember, and will continue to remember,

because he now resides forever in our hearts.

As I look up at night, I envision The Old Salt,

a beret draped just above the eye,

as he draws upon his pipe,

quietly he waits.

The guardian of heaven’s gate.

Answer 10

Elegy



Too proud to die; broken and blind he died

The darkest way, and did not turn away,

A cold kind man brave in his narrow pride

On that darkest day, Oh, forever may

He lie lightly, at last, on the last, crossed

Hill, under the grass, in love, and there grow

Young among the long flocks, and never lie lost

Or still all the numberless days of his death, though

Above all he longed for his mother's breast

Which was rest and dust, and in the kind ground

The darkest justice of death, blind and unblessed.

Let him find no rest but be fathered and found,

I prayed in the crouching room, by his blind bed,

In the muted house, one minute before

Noon, and night, and light. the rivers of the dead

Veined his poor hand I held, and I saw

Through his unseeing eyes to the roots of the sea.

(An old tormented man three-quarters blind,

I am not too proud to cry that He and he

Will never never go out of my mind.

All his bones crying, and poor in all but pain,

Being innocent, he dreaded that he died

Hating his God, but what he was was plain:

An old kind man brave in his burning pride.

The sticks of the house were his; his books he owned.

Even as a baby he had never cried;

Nor did he now, save to his secret wound.

Out of his eyes I saw the last light glide.

Here among the liught of the lording sky

An old man is with me where I go

Walking in the meadows of his son's eye

On whom a world of ills came down like snow.

He cried as he died, fearing at last the spheres'

Last sound, the world going out without a breath:

Too proud to cry, too frail to check the tears,

And caught between two nights, blindness and death.

O deepest wound of all that he should die

On that darkest day. oh, he could hide

The tears out of his eyes, too proud to cry.

Until I die he will not leave my side.)

Dylan Thomas  

Answer 11

No contest - Henry Lawson's "After all" - do yourself a favour and look it up. It fills me with tears and gives me goosebumps. But I won't have to worry about that.....

Answer 12

I got this poem out of the book Chicken soup for the Christian soul:

It is called: He only takes the best (author unknown)

God saw she was getting tired

and a cure was not to be

So he put his arms around her

and whispered, "Come with me"

With tear-filled eyes we watched her

suffer and fade away

Although we loved her deeply

We could not make her stay

A golden heart stopped beatting,

hard-working hands put to rest.

God broke our hearts to prove to us

he only takes the best