#funeral poems
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Erato złotowłosa i ty, wdzięczna lutni, Skąd pociechę w swych troskach biorą ludzie smutni! Uspokójcie na chwilę strapioną myśl moję, Póki jeszcze kamienny w polu słup nie stoję, Lejąc ledwe nie krwawy płacz przez marmór żywy, Żalu ciężkiego pamięć i znak nieszczęśliwy.
Golden-locked Erato, and thou, sweet lute, The comfort of the sad and destitute, Calm thou my sorrow, lest I too become A marble pillar shedding through the dumb But living stone my almost bloody tears, A monument of grief for coming years.
Jan Kochanowski (c. 1530-1584), Tren XV
English translation by Dorothea Prall (1889-1948)
*Only imagine that in Bohun's lifetime this poem was nearly 100 years old...
#art#my art#my artwork#polish literature#jan kochanowski#funeral poetry#funeral poems#traditional artist#artist on tumblr
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This is for you
To my mother
Who always took care of my heart
Who walks me through life
Even when we are apart
To my father
Who gave up on his dreams and land
So I could have everything and more
Just at hand
To my cousin
Who is able to tear down my wall
Who picks me up before I fall
To my grandparents
Who gave me my personality and name
Who helped me become the person I am today
To my best friend
Whose love has always been the one
To show me I shouldn't lower my expectations for anyone
To my friends
Who showed me the world
And a piece of heaven
Who make me laugh
On our late night call sessions
I grew up with some of them
Some I got to know
Along the way
I'm grateful for all of you
#poetry#poem#poets on tumblr#poets corner#quotes#love#poeta#words words words#quotation#spilled words#love poems#funeral poems#poems on tumblr#young poets#dead poets society
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Let Me Go
When I come to the end of the road
And the sun has set for me
I want no rites in a gloom filled room
Why cry for a soul set free?
Miss me a little, but not for long
And not with your head bowed low
Remember the love that once we shared
Miss me, but let me go.
For this is a journey we all must take
And each must go alone.
It's all part of the master plan
A step on the road to home.
When you are lonely and sick at heart
Go the friends we know.
Laugh at all the things we used to do
Miss me, but let me go.
When I am dead my dearest
Sing no sad songs for me
Plant thou no roses at my head
Nor shady cypress tree
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet
And if thou wilt remember
And if thou wilt, forget.
I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not fear the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on as if in pain;
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.
#let me go#christina georgina rossetti#english poetry#english literature#poetry#funeral poems#women writers
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Dear Dad,
You are gone and I am here
Oh pain whom I sought through tears that tears through in the night
Tearing through in soul and body like a sharpen knife
In my thoughts, I am lost in my own fear, gasping for breath trying to understand
Imagination, I may have and yet a mystery to life I shall have
Grief weighs heavily on one’s shoulders, expecting to bear the burden that I am given
Tell me what is a daughter to do in light of your absence
How am I to keep the family together if you are gone
Such a burden to bear now that you are gone.
I am not even sure what can be done
Now that you are no longer here.
What am I to do, Dad?
You are simply a picture, a jar of ash and tokens of remembrance
You haunt mom, did you know that?
She misses you and wanders endlessly into the dark, searching for you hands and into your arms
I sometimes tug back, onto that rope I so dutifully craft yet it’s not enough
She goes to far and I’m dragged in
I’m tried, so so tired of sadness and grief
Of death and funeral processions
Tell me Dad, what am I to do now that you are dead 💀
#deathcore#writersofinstagram#poetsandwriters#edgar allen poe#death#coping with grief#dealing with death#dead dad stuff#dead dad club#funeral poems
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The proper scholarly way of reading the iliad is to acknowledge that there is no good or bad and that everyone must be viewed with the same complex morality, but my preferred method is to pick out a babygirl or two and cling on for dear life
#lucked out on Odysseus he got a whole sequel#hector not so much#sorry bbg but at least the poem ended on your funeral#got the last laugh in
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So there's this tiktok post from a Christian who is genuinely asking what atheist funerals are like since all the comfort and discussion cannot center on the afterlife. Like, there is no concept of where the person is now, or seeing the person in the future like at theist funerals.
And this response just describes it so perfectly that I am stunned and wondered and compelled to share with everyone I know and everyone I don't.
#Death#Funeral#Atheist#A very good simile#Basically a poem#Practically a doctoral thesis#Succinct#Book club#Boom Club of Life
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DRESSING FOR THE BURIAL
No one wants to talk about the hilarity after death —
the way the week my brother shot himself,
his wife and I fell on the bed laughing
because she couldn’t decide what to wear for the big day,
and asked me, “Do I go for sexy or Amish?” I told her sexy.
And we rolled around on the mattress they shared
for eighteen years, clutching our sides.
Meanwhile, he lay in a narrow refrigerated drawer,
soft brown curls springing from his scalp,
framing his handsome face. This was back when
he still had a face, and we were going to see it.
“Hold up the black skirt again,” I said. She said, “Which one?”
And then she said, “You look so Mafia Chic,” and I said, “Thank you,”
and it went on until we both got tired and our ribs hurt and now
I don’t even remember what we wore. Only that we both looked fabulous
weeping over that open hole in the ground.
DANUSHA LAMÉRIS
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W.H. Auden,
“Funeral Blues”
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 forever: 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.
(This has always been one of my favorite poems.)
#poem#poet#poetry#sad poetry#poets#poets on tumblr#poets corner#poems and poetry#dead poets society#poetic#writers and poets#short poem#sad poem#love poem#poemas#poems on tumblr#poems and quotes#w.h. auden#Auden#Auden poem#war poetry#war poem#academia#classic academia#aesthetic#chaotic academia#dark academia#literature#english literature#funeral blues
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favourite poems of october
alfred starr a dark dreambox of another kind: the poems of alfred starr: "didn't you ever search for another star?
stephen spender new collected poems: "auden's funeral"
marianne boruch keats is coughing
noa micaela fields zoeglossia: poem of the week, may 17, 2021: "echolalia"
kevin young diptych
richard siken real estate
crisosto apache kúghą/home
mikko harvey for m
nathan hoks nests in air: "the barbed wire nest"
john a. holmes noon waking
crisosto apache 37 common characterisi(x)s of a displaced indian with a learning disability
oliver de la paz requiem for the orchard: "at the time of my birth"
zhang xun jiangnan song (tr. bijaan noormohamed)
paul violi fracas: "extenuating circumstances"
tianru wang after "yellow crane tower"
lloyd schwartz cairo traffic: "nostalgia (the lake at night)"
kamiko han the narrow road to the interior: "the orient"
rigoberto gonzalez unpeopled eden: "unpeopled eden"
adelaide crapsey verse: "to the dead in the graveyard underneath my window"
chester kallman night music
alan shapiro covenant: "covenant"
tom clark light and shade: new and selected poems: "radio"
tc tolbert my melissa,
charlie smith in praise of regret
carolyn kizer cool, calm, and collected: poems 1960-2000: "fanny"
julie sheehan orient point: "hate poem"
arthur sze the redshifting web: poems 1970-1998: "streamers"
joumana altallal everything here...in the voice of tara fares
abid b al-abras last simile
w.s. merwin to lingering regrets
george scarbrough music
shout me a coffee
#tbr list#poems#poetry#poetry list#poem list#poet#poets#alfred starr#a dark dreambox of another kind#didn't you ever search for another star?#stephen spender#new collected poems#auden's funeral#marianne boruch#keats is coughing#noa micaela fields#echolalia#zoeglossia#oliver de la paz#requiem for the orchard#at the time of my birth#paul violi#fracas#extenuating circumstances#lloyd schwartz#cairo traffic#nostalgia (the lake at night)#rigoberto gonzalez#unpeopled eden#tom clark
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#Conversations I Have Had With Edgar Allan Poe#Edgar Allan Poe#author#authors#writer#writers#books#literature#poems#poetry#TW funeral#unreality#Oh Edgar
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my fiance @stephanie-lauter drew me this for my birthday. i was thinking about ruth's funeral :( and i thought that pete would pick out this poem for her funeral, but he would be too distraught to read it so stephanie would read it on his behalf.
#the poem is funeral blues by w h auden#nerdy prudes must die#ruth fleming#npmd#stephanie lauter#peter spankoffski
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aristotle and dante discover the secrets of the universe by benjamin alire sáenz // father and son dancing by brian kershisnik // the pain scale by eula biss // the last of us part II // folding a five-cornered star so the corners meet by li-young lee // x // funeral by phoebe bridgers // trista mateer
#web weaving#poetry#fatherly love#webweaving#poems#aristotle and dante discover the secrets of the universe#aristotle and dante#father and son#father and daughter#familial love#eula biss#the last of us#the last of us part 2#tlou#tlou2#joel miller#li young lee#trista mateer#phoebe bridgers#funeral
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I'm better now
I wish I had gotten to know you better
Not just your favourite colour
Or how many siblings you have
But also the thoughts
That kept running through your head
When you were lying in bed
I know I messed up
I had tried to put you in a position
You weren't supposed to be at
But I was broken and you seemed whole
I was healing; it was wrong
I hope you can forgive my heart
It never meant to break yours apart
I'm better now
#poetry#poem#poets on tumblr#poets corner#quotes#love#poeta#words words words#quotation#spilled words#funeral poems#romantic poets#love poems#writers and poets#sad poem#poems and poetry#poets#love quotes#feel something#female poets
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Hey. Can I request a web weave about thinking you're not someone people can love? Thank you. Take care.
-if i loved you less, i might be able to talk about it more. but you know what i am.
i hope this is what you were looking for !!
Sue Zhao / Fatima Aamer Bilal my heart has claws / Julien Baker Funeral Pyre / pinterest / Chen Chen Nature Poem; When I Grow Up I Want to Be a List of Further Possibilities / Silas Denver Melvin Love as an Act of Merciful Conquer (via @sweatermuppet) / pinterest / Clarice Lispector The Stream of Life / Jane Austen
#on longing#on heartbreak#on feeling unloved#on yearning#sue zhao#fatima aamer bilal#my heart has claws#julien baker#funeral pyre#chen chen#nature poem#when i grow up i want to be a list of further possibilities#silas denver melvin#love as an act of merciful conquer#clarice lispector#the stream of life#jane austen#poetry compilation#web weave#web weaving#poetry#words#writing#text#quote#poem#spilled ink#dark academia#spilled thoughts#spilled poetry
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the sun was out and i let it spill in to the room a whole hour before i needed to.
there was a feeling
and i let it wash over me with the morning.
i was still smoking half a pack a day
and using marijuana like sleeping pills,
but still,
i could breathe better, this peculiar morning.
my bed was no longer a boudoir
splattered in tones of melancholy.
it began seeming,
more and more like it was a tomb.
i was half-wishing ivy would spring forth from the marbled floor and wrap around my bed,
and mourners would bring hyacinths
or lilies or daffodils to leave at my crypt.
evidence of the death
of one who’s life was well-lived.
but alas,
morning turned into afternoon,
and nobody knew
that i was sepulchred by this feeling that the new day brought.
i suppose
you only grieve for those who lived well,
and the me that was entombed
had left claw marks on everything she had touched.
so she died in silence,
with no prayers to let her go to heaven.
and i went to the market
and bought hyacinths, lilies and daffodils,
a perfunctory gesture,
but a gesture all the same;
she was brave,
even if we all thought her insane.
she was still a part of me,
no matter how dead or decayed.
- i am a mosaic of all my mistakes; every girl i have ever been is eulogised in me.
#writers#love#poetry#writers on tumblr#art#feelings#poetry community#writing#writer#writing blog#spilled ink#poets on tumblr#dreams#dark academia#ivy#death note#eulogy#flowers#no mourners no funerals#healing#heartbreaking#shrine#writers community#original poetry#poems on tumblr#poets of tumblr#literature
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Funerals
I've been to a lot of funerals It comes with the lifestyle I've had
I didn't go to your funeral I couldn't bring myself to see you cold and made up and in a wooden box
I regret it I wish I would've come even if it was just to say goodbye and then I could go on my merry way
But that's not what I did I sat in my room in silence a piece of rubber tubing lays on the bed And I look as if I'm dead too
I think about you every day Even though you've been for years I can still hear your laugh I can still feel your hands cupping my face
Like when you made me tell myself that I liked myself.
I've been to a lot of funerals and I should have been at yours.
#writers and poets#poems on tumblr#original poem#poem#poetry#spilled thoughts#spilled feelings#spilled writing#writing#my writing#spilled poetry#spilled emotions#spilled words#writers on tumblr#poets and writers#creative writing#writerscommunity#writer#crmsnmth#Funerals#greiving#loss#memories#i miss you so much#my junkie angel
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