Poems for Funerals

An Arundel Tomb by Philip Larkin?

The one from Four Weddings and a Funeral always gets me (think it was by Auden)

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone W. H. Auden Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead, Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. For nothing now can ever come to any good. ***************************************** A man lives for as long as we carry inside us, for as long as we carry the harvest of his dreams, for as long as we ourselves live, holding memories in common, a man lives. ('So Many Different Lengths of Time' - Armada. p. 70-71) Brian Patten **************************************** DO NOT WEEP Do not stand at my grave and weep I am not there, I do not sleep I am a thousand winds that blow I am the diamond glints on snow I am the sunlight on ripened grain I am the gentle autumn's rain. When you awaken in the morning's hush I am the swift, uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there, I did not die. Mary E.Frye 1932

This is a song lyric, but it may be suitable. WHERE I'LL BE. When you look into the sky, And see a star go sailing by. That's where I'll be. When you listen to the breeze, Singing songs in summer trees, That's where I'll be. When the night goes on too long, Think of me and I'll be with you still. Don't be scared to talk of me, I wont mind and it wont hurt me now. Don't be slow to laugh along, To jokes we used to share together. Listen hard, you'll hear me laughing still. Don't be saddened by my leaving, Let your sorrow slip away, I've only stepped into the other room. Let me go with joy and love, I've found the rainbows end now. Be happy for me, let me smile. And remember to be happy for yourself. I've left my footprints in the sand, For you to follow in your own good time. I'll be with you when you need me, And I'll be ready when you want to hold my hand again. CHORUS. Close your eyes for pleasant dreams, Nothing's really as it seems. Go to sleep without a care, Be happy and you'll see me there. Place your hand upon your heart, I'll be there. We're not apart.

This is often used for weddings but we had it at my Nana's funeral and its a pretty cool send off. An Irish Blessing May the road rise up to meet you. May the wind always be at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face, and rains fall soft upon your fields. And until we meet again, May God hold you in the palm of His hand.

The Reassurance About ten days or so After we saw you dead You came back in a dream. I'm all right now you said. And it was you, although You were all fleshed out again: You hugged us all round then, And gave your welcoming beam. How like you to be kind, Seeking to reassure. And, yes, how like my mind To make itself secure. Thom Gunn *** Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night. Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Dylan Thomas

Remember (I think) Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land; When you can no more hold me by the hand, Nor I half to go yet turning stay, Remember me when no more day by day You tell me of our future that you planned: Only remember me; you understand It will be too late to counsel then or pray. Yet if you should forget me for a while And afterwards remember, do not grieve: For if the darkness and corruption leave A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, Better by far you should forget and smile Than that you should remember and be sad. Christina Rossetti

Thats one of my favourites Emily...gives me a chill, every time I read it.

Why don't you write one yourself fish? I bet you could write something very beautiful for the occasion. Buried my Mum yesturday and my cousin read my poem Always which I wrote about her.

When Gone For love is when departing grieves the heart, and often undervalued until then. Love stretched by time and distance when apart left yearning some, "Until we meet again ..." An irony that often one is told to 'make the most of love whilst it's at hand'. To 'treasure every moment, as if gold'. Yet, still we often fail to understand that, swiftly, like a thief steals in the night, and carries off what was so valuable. And only when that treasure's out of sight it dawns upon the victim, 'what a fool!' for never having truly dwelt upon those wise words, "Value love, lest it be gone ..." Copyright © January 1999 David Taub (Ukpoet@aol.com)

thank you all for your kind suggestions ... am off to the funeral tomorrow and will take all the poems along with me x x x

funeral update: none of the funeral poems suggested were used i am sad to say ... but a poem was read out that had been written by my cousin (a six foot brick shithouse roofer from essex) ... if i had seen the poem on ABC i would probably have found it dire ... in the circumstances it was right ... and moving ...