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Funeral: The Last Rites

DanielChristensen
DanielChristensen
The Fire Elemental
Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 27th Feb 2016
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Poetry Contest

Describe attending a funeral. The subject is open about the ritual, the ceremony and all the emotions tied to the loss. Write something new or post something you've already written. It can be based on a real life experience or fictional.
I heard somewhere, Funerals are for the living, not the departed. They help us to come together and process the loss. One thing about me is, though I have experienced loss, I have never attended a funeral. Perhaps you can give me and everyone your personal perspective on it.

gothicsurrealism
gothicsurrealism
Daniel Long
Thought Provoker
United States
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The Raven’s Shrill, The Poet’s Echo

“In the company of imageries within my castle,
I voice for everyone my next poetic verse.
All the empty halls listen and echo my passion,
And in darkly rich verse I immerse.”

Through the courtyard, pulls up a hearse,
Beneath the arms of stone archways and hideous gargoyles –
All the ravens disperse.
The blood veining through these stone figureheads’ boils.

The coffin-conveyance disordered the black-wolfs of the court;
Heavenly light shot into their black eyes
And deep, rasping calls followed in retort.
They soon returned with their harsh, grating reprise.

Trespassers! The black flock surmised.
Their shrill shadowed the echo through these hollow halls,
The dark-suited burial conveyance led amiss of a poet’s demise.
Still, the poet’s verse calls.

Paths such as these treaded the dead poet’s caretakers,
Like old footpaths in the snow.
They foresaw a ghastly corpse, still, as soundless as open acres.
Little did they know…

The sullen ravens protested the bearer’s presence.
The pain in their knocking hearts,
As the blizzardy gusts of winter’s menace,
The black flock hovered the hearse in trepidation, till it departs.  

A melancholic tune radiated throughout the halls of the castle,
Thought the ravens it was time for their poet to depart
And behind him, they would follow his trail of light.
Lo! Then in place of squinted, teary eyes, they widely part!

Little did they know…
Written by gothicsurrealism (Daniel Long)
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Rianne
Rianne
Fire of Insight
Norway
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Joined 11th Feb 2022
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Related submission no longer exists.

Rew
Rew
Thought Provoker
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Joined 30th Sep 2022
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Passing.

I did not know you were really dead  
or, could not bring myself to believe  
till I saw that chap, baring his head,  
bowing you past, and me, leave to grieve.
Written by Rew
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Rew
Rew
Thought Provoker
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Joined 30th Sep 2022
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The Rattling Cortege

She had watched, and often,
death's rattling cortege,
visioned her own going, softer,
in a more romantic age,
 
and, as a stranger in the chapel,
her neighbors remarked,
" How strange, & what a marvel,
her face, unblemished, unmarked "
 
As the smoke from the long black chimney
(as they sang of remembrance and love)
rose, fusing her fuming body,
with the clouds, above.
Written by Rew
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PAR
PAR
PAULO ACACIO RAMOS
Thought Provoker
Portugal
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Joined 26th May 2022
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Last season

If the lips are red,
these hands are so white,
on my hands.
In the village where I was raised
there was no tree
neither nuts… because I craved
myself from time to time.

In the village where I was raised
there was no wheat field.
In the village where I was raised
from the north the wind left
a dryness my chapped lips.

Do I remember some boyfriends I had?

I wonder what they were like.
I dreamed that they changed a bit,
not the same as always.

Now they are a name in the books,
Last names in parentheses.
Their birth and death years
at the bottom of the page,
or maybe it's from when
they were edited.

A list of names in the books.
Like birds in agony
of death within my hand.
In parentheses, a dash.
Everything that was is there.
The hopes, the fears,
the teas, the joys.

Everything that was is there.
Now they remain inside…
As prisoners of these books.
In these traits they still live!
One cannot go back.
One can just kill people
inside their cells.

Friends died
without my permission.
I salute the poets
recently translated
for our language.
I must enjoy this winter
melting before me.

There are dark birds
that wrangle in the eater.
All this shiny snow...
It circles the street in drains,
Rivers of broken hearts...


PAR
Written by PAR (PAULO ACACIO RAMOS)
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DanielChristensen
DanielChristensen
The Fire Elemental
Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 27th Feb 2016
Forum Posts: 152

Thank you Gothicsurrealism, Rianne, Rew and Par for these amazing entries! I'm looking forward to what our friends and colleagues will post in the coming weeks of the competition and at the end I'll be opening it up to public vote. 💖🙏🏻

mel44
mel44
Fire of Insight
United Kingdom
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Joined 3rd Mar 2017
Forum Posts: 232

A Ritual Goodbye

Today we gather
family and friends
laying you to rest
we say our amens

A service for
those left behind
in our mourning
grief assigned

Suffering our loss
and death’s cyclone
in connection
we are not alone

Sorrow and pain
shared emotion
as we profess
a common devotion

A celebration of you
fond recollections
sharing memories
collective affections

In this ritual
we say our goodbyes
honouring your soul
as it soars and flies
Written by mel44
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Vee
Vee
Rina
Tyrant of Words
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Joined 7th Sep 2013
Forum Posts: 3010

At The Funeral

You stayed too long
in your town of
narrow streets, broken dreams
when all the great left before their time
searching for meaning
in rain and desert wind
crossing the crisscross
scars of the heart.

The morning aged, perfunctorily
snowing unexpectedly
seven years of oblivious divinity
sweeping the earth with silence
past remembrance and burnt flowers
reading your obituary:
Death
by
Overindulgence of Passion


The painted women
came to your funeral
dressed in dusk and perfume
weeping at your feet
rubbing sweet oil
on your skin
with plumes of myrrh
sifting rosary
seventy times seven

Lacrimosa
rippled in waves of mourning veil
brushing against my cheek
numb in nothingness
standing like a pillar of salt
with a bouquet of poetry
in a room blanketed
with white dust

It’s late-
 too late..
but
I can’t break-
away from you
wanting to wreak
all that is beautiful


Your lips
pale, cold
as marble stone
under my fingertip
I slid a copper penny
in-between
for
safe journey
to aging voices
murmuring
vespers of whispers
around me.

Hush!
Sleep now.. Love
You have carved the eternal peace
in dreams and fevers
around my rib cage
festooning my heart

We have already said
too much in this lifetime.

Morbs
Morbs
Lost Thinker
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Joined 19th Nov 2022
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I don’t like to call it a wake

In truth, you’d already gone
still sketching in a chair
across the blank sheets  
of an empty bedroom
pencil sharp
illustrating the heaven  
that existed in your mind.  
 
I knew the geometry of your heart  
even then; I knew the rare colours  
of your eyes as carelessly shaded  
as stained glass pouring down  
from kaleidoscopic windows  
in a crowded church  
 
the hushed reverie  
of silk-cut flowers delicate  
on an oak lid, how petals  
reminded me of our days,
fragile and fleeting.  
 
There were curled sandwiches  
gathered on paper plates  
full of everything, healing    
the nothing felt standing  
above that void.  
 
I ate the ground  
 
myself  
 
those wounds.
Written by Morbs
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NightGoddess
NightGoddess
Fire of Insight
United States
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None of this is fair

Unlike the meticulous planning of a wedding, an obituary serves as the invitations and a few phone calls procures essentials for an interment
 
Within days the accommodations are booked, the staff ready, the guest of honor prepared, and the room decorated  
 
Memorial cards printed, limos waxed, and even the reception room is filled with fare for those invited to feast
 
The sounds are discrete at a funeral ceremony, a library silence, an inherent rule of respect I suppose
 
Friends, families and acquaintances hurt along side you. “I’m sorry for your loss” is offered from those less damaged, a last minute artificial cheese platter of sentiment grabbed off the generic gift shelf, but an offering none the less
 
Everyone is afraid and all ‘who enters’ the room sees the lifelessness, feels the inevitability. The parlor, the scent, the casket, the hearse, the formalities, are all pre defined mechanisms of etiquette to keep you propelling through the absoluteness of grief
 
Imagine what you want in this hallowed hall. Break down, or laugh, disclose and presume unhinged theories, become a child again. “It’s ok.” Despite the stillness, you are not sanctioned to behave ordinarily.  
 
The flowers are not typical, their aroma is omniscient of an air freshener, an over-powering fragrance designed to redirect your mind from questioning your senses. The arranged buds represent the artistry of life, the cut stems cements the knowledge of death; everything in this reception room is delicately dead.  
 
These cloned arrangements are beacons of sorrow, labeled with identity banners so everyone has something else to converse about
 
Final judgments are offered, the hair, the makeup, she looks good, he is at peace now, no one knows what the hell to say
 
Looking past the funeral sticker on the windshield during the dreaded procession to the grave site, a man waters his lawn, not noticing the clouds and children ride bikes full of energy and happiness. Maybe they will live forever. Perhaps there is a quantum tear in the universe. Yes, this must be some crazy nightmare, and death will never happen again, to anyone  
 
Secretly, I desire to jump out of the car and help the man water his lawn  
 
In the back of the hearse flowers secured to metal arbors and arranged like wreaths should be released, their seeds snatched by birds and distributed into fields; at least give them a chance for more life
 
Tomorrow I will become a research scientist and discover the cure for aging, “No” I will discover an elixir for immortality; I tell myself  
 
But for now, I transfer my thoughts and dwell on the looming pain, my loved one will be missed and in reality, none of this is fair
 
Hugs, tight squeezes, hands held, tissues soaked to capacity, shared tears and kisses among strangers are exchanged, because funeral germs are safe  
 
I look at all the sad faces and I want happiness in spite of the loss. I want music to uplift everyone out of this group mourning for there will be bereavement anyway; I want
 
Eventually the rain will give way to sunshine, an intricate wedding invitation will be sent, bouquets of flowers held, photographed and saved as mementos existing forever in photo albums
 
Hugs and kisses with flourishing wedding germs will be reciprocated and thoughts about life and the future will be shared and the music will be playing
Written by NightGoddess
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DanielChristensen
DanielChristensen
The Fire Elemental
Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 27th Feb 2016
Forum Posts: 152

More great entries from NightGoddess, Morbs, Vee and mel44! Thank you to everyone participating and reading! In just under 3 weeks, I'll open it up for public vote.

BlueBeastGirl
BlueBeastGirl
Beasty
Dangerous Mind
United States
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Military Funeral for a Drag Queen

What are funerals...
But the declaration of the end
Hide away those metal beads
And those beautiful silk cheetah shirts
Hide the leather skirts, dont forget the heels
The beaded masks and rainbow trucker hat
Park that acid trip ford truck out back
We burry him in full military apparel
In his coffin a bare face without his grin
Metals glimmering in that mild light
Images that capture his beautiful life
Photos only showing him with his trucks
Those trucker hats holding his ponytail
Leather jacket and blue jeaned man
The only hint of queer in those dangling earrings
But never in his silks and high heels
That was for family and the drunks at the bar
He was beautiful and domineering in life
But so very small and frail in his death
Bury him as a military man as he deserves
Remember the drag queen he was
Written by BlueBeastGirl (Beasty)
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crimsin
crimsin
Unveiling
Tyrant of Words
United States
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on the road to Damascus

 
memories of faith in shades of pain
desolate was the golden streets on which we gambled our fate
daring each other into bravery
lending our voices to a choir of angels
who look but never saw beauty weep
 
bitterness crept upon the dawning of understanding
feeding the fire in our souls
clashing with midnight's dust
 
it was our first and last night together, how were we to know
you cried I pretended not to see
overcome by the moment  
 
I swear a vow to always honor you
I wept upon the knowledge I had loved you times two forevers
silence cut the glory with jealousy
 
I shine in my innocense
believing we could always be
you were cut from my side with a word
sent assassin that bated your valor
I lay down my weapons, then
and the all the angels cried
stars crash to the ground in brotherhood  
 
for the love of our immortal bond
lay your soul down in mine
and keep your vow to heaven no more  
 
 
 
 
Written by crimsin (Unveiling)
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DanielChristensen
DanielChristensen
The Fire Elemental
Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 27th Feb 2016
Forum Posts: 152

Thank you crimsin and BlueBeastGirl for throwing your hats into the ring! Hoping for even more awesome perspectives in the weeks to come!

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