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| If you where Dying, At your funeral...
Posted: 1/22/2008 7:48:15 PM | Gone to the Unseen
At last you have departed and gone to the Unseen.
What marvelous route did you take from this world?
Beating your wings and feathers,
you broke free from this cage.
Rising up to the sky
you attained the world of the soul.
You were a prized falcon trapped by an Old Woman.
Then you heard the drummer's call
and flew beyond space and time.
As a lovesick nightingale, you flew among the owls.
Then came the scent of the rosegarden
and you flew off to meet the Rose.
The wine of this fleeting world
caused your head to ache.
Finally you joined the tavern of Eternity.
Like an arrow, you sped from the bow
and went straight for the bull's eye of bliss.
This phantom world gave you false signs
But you turned from the illusion
and journeyed to the land of truth.
You are now the Sun -
what need have you for a crown?
You have vanished from this world -
what need have you to tie your robe?
I've heard that you can barely see your soul.
But why look at all? -
yours is now the Soul of Souls!
O heart, what a wonderful bird you are.
Seeking divine heights,
Flapping your wings,
you smashed the pointed spears of your enemy.
The flowers flee from Autumn, but not you -
You are the fearless rose
that grows amidst the freezing wind.
Pouring down like the rain of heaven
you fell upon the rooftop of this world.
Then you ran in every direction
and escaped through the drain spout . . .
Now the words are over
and the pain they bring is gone.
Now you have gone to rest
in the arms of the Beloved.
Rumi | |
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| If you where Dying, At your funeral...
Posted: 1/22/2008 7:58:42 PM |  Autumn...that was a very lovely last rite! Wowwww
I love him , as well!
Ode 2180
From these depths depart towards heaven;
may your soul be happy, journey joyfully.
You have escaped from the city full of fear and trembling;
happily become a resident of the Abode of Security4 The Abode of Security seems to be an allusion to heaven which is sometimes called "the abode of peace" (dar-al salam) by Rumi as against "the abode of pride" (dar-al gorur) i.e., the world..
If the body’s image has gone, await the image-maker; if the
body is utterly ruined, become all soul.
If your face has become saffron pale through death, become a
dweller among tulip beds and Judas trees.
If the doors of repose have been barred to you, come, depart
by way of the roof and the ladder.
If you are alone from Friends and companions, by the help of
God become a saheb-qeran5 Saheb qeran is a person who is born under a happy conjunction of the planets. [lord of happy circumstance].
If you have been secluded from water and bread, like bread
become the food of the souls, and so become!
"Mystical Poems of Rumi 2"
 This one for J.!!!!!! | |
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| If you where Dying, At your funeral...
Posted: 1/22/2008 9:01:22 PM | Hi Joshua. I have always known what song I want played (sung) at my funeral but, had not thought about a poem. I think I'd prefer my S.O. or one of my kids to choose or write a poem that would send me off with their memories of my time with them. That being said though...I do like this one
Crossing the River
Black lake, black boat, two black, cut-paper people.
Where do the black trees go that drink here?
Their shadows must cover Canada.
A little light is filtering from the water flowers.
Their leaves do not wish us to hurry:
They are round and flat and full of dark advice.
Cold worlds shake from the oar.
The spirit of blackness is in us, it is in the fishes.
A snag is lifting a valedictory, pale hand;
Stars open among the lilies.
Are you not blinded by such expressionless sirens?
This is the silence of astounded souls.
Sylvia Plath | |
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| If you where Dying, At your funeral...
Posted: 1/22/2008 9:31:21 PM | It's strange Sophia I always think of music too and have threatened my children for years that I must have the sounds of silence played at my funeral. I was pregnant with my first baby when I heard them perform it live...she kicked me so hard my side hurt - so my wish may not be heeded after all.
The Sound of Silence
Artist(Band):Paul Simon
Hello darkness, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone,
'Neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence.
And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more.
People talking without speaking,
People hearing without listening,
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dare
Disturb the sound of silence.
"Fools" said I, "You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you,
Take my arms that I might reach to you."
But my words like silent raindrops fell,
And echoed
In the wells of silence
And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made.
And the sign flashed out its warning,
in the words that it was forming.
And the sign said, "The words of the prophets
are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls."
And whisper'd in the sounds of silence. | |
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| If you where Dying, At your funeral...
Posted: 1/22/2008 9:34:20 PM |
I would like mine to read...
Don't announce my passing
It is into a True Journey of Love
Love is all
After this
More Love than
Anything known here
After all
This is Final
Finally Love
~Eternal
Don't announce my passing
It is into a True Journey of Love
I have gone...
Love is all
After this
Me
. | |
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| If you where Dying, At your funeral...
Posted: 1/22/2008 11:37:19 PM | THE GRAVEYARD
(Irving Layton)
Lord, I understand the plan, the news is out:
I kill him, he kills me, change and change about,
And you ever in the right; and no wonder
Since it's no great matter who's up, who's under.
Teuton or Slav, Arab or suffering Jew --
Nature, Justice, God -- they are all one to you.
The lion breeds the lamb and the antelope
As evil breeds good; darkness, light; despair, hope.
And though your scheme confounds theologians' wits
All come and go sired by the opposites;
And they decree: he who slays and he who's slain
Leave on your excellent world no crimson stain.
The tragic, warring creatures that here have breath
Are reconciled in the partnership of death;
And death's akin to art, and artists please
To the measure they have stilled the contraries.
Energy must crackle on a silent urn,
Nothing catch fire though Jerusalem burn,
And the lion poised on the poor bok to spring
Hold in his furious jaws no suffering.
Motion and rest, love and hate, heaven and hell
Here cease their Punch-and-Judy show: all is well.
There is no pain in the graveyard or the voice
Whispering in the tombstones: "Rejoice, rejoice." | |
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| If you where Dying, At your funeral...
Posted: 1/22/2008 11:40:50 PM | The Ship of Death
(D H Lawrence)
I
Now it is autumn and the falling fruit
and the long journey towards oblivion.
The apples falling like great drops of dew
to bruise themselves an exit from themselves.
And it is time to go, to bid farewell
to one's own self, and find an exit
from the fallen self.
II
Have you built your ship of death, O have you?
O build your ship of death, for you will need it.
The grim frost is at hand, when the apples will fall
thick, almost thundrous, on the hardened earth.
And death is on the air like a smell of ashes!
Ah! can't you smell it?
And in the bruised body, the frightened soul
finds itself shrinking, wincing from the cold
that blows upon it through the orifices.
III
And can a man his own quietus make
with a bare bodkin?
With daggers, bodkins, bullets, man can make
a bruise or break of exit for his life;
but is that a quietus, O tell me, is it quietus?
Surely not so! for how could murder, even self-murder
ever a quietus make?
IV
O let us talk of quiet that we know,
that we can know, the deep and lovely quiet
of a strong heart at peace!
How can we this, our own quietus, make?
V
Build then the ship of death, for you must take
the longest journey, to oblivion.
And die the death, the long and painful death
that lies between the old self and the new.
Already our bodies are fallen, bruised, badly bruised,
already our souls are oozing through the exit
of the cruel bruise.
Already the dark and endless ocean of the end
is washing in through the breaches of our wounds,
already the flood is upon us.
Oh build your ship of death, your little ark
and furnish it with food, with little cakes, and wine
for the dark flight down oblivion.
VI
Piecemeal the body dies, and the timid soul
has her footing washed away, as the dark flood rises.
We are dying, we are dying, we are all of us dying
and nothing will stay the death-flood rising within us
and soon it will rise on the world, on the outside world.
We are dying, we are dying, piecemeal our bodies are dying
and our strength leaves us,
and our soul cowers naked in the dark rain over the flood,
cowering in the last branches of the tree of our life.
VII
We are dying, we are dying, so all we can do
is now to be willing to die, and to build the ship
of death to carry the soul on the longest journey.
A little ship, with oars and food
and little dishes, and all accoutrements
fitting and ready for the departing soul.
Now launch the small ship, now as the body dies
and life departs, launch out, the fragile soul
in the fragile ship of courage, the ark of faith
with its store of food and little cooking pans
and change of clothes,
upon the flood's black waste
upon the waters of the end
upon the sea of death, where still we sail
darkly, for we cannot steer, and have no port.
There is no port, there is nowhere to go
only the deepening black darkening still
blacker upon the soundless, ungurgling flood
darkness at one with darkness, up and down
and sideways utterly dark, so there is no direction any more
and the little ship is there; yet she is gone.
She is not seen, for there is nothing to see her by.
She is gone! gone! and yet
somewhere she is there.
Nowhere!
VIII
And everything is gone, the body is gone
completely under, gone, entirely gone.
The upper darkness is heavy as the lower,
between them the little ship
is gone
she is gone.
It is the end, it is oblivion.
IX
And yet out of eternity a thread
separates itself on the blackness,
a horizontal thread
that fumes a little with pallor upon the dark.
Is it illusion? or does the pallor fume
A little higher?
Ah wait, wait, for there's the dawn,
the cruel dawn of coming back to life
out of oblivion.
Wait, wait, the little ship
drifting, beneath the deathly ashy grey
of a flood-dawn.
Wait, wait! even so, a flush of yellow
and strangely, O chilled wan soul, a flush of rose.
A flush of rose, and the whole thing starts again.
X
The flood subsides, and the body, like a worn sea-shell
emerges strange and lovely.
And the little ship wings home, faltering and lapsing
on the pink flood,
and the frail soul steps out, into the house again
filling the heart with peace.
Swings the heart renewed with peace
even of oblivion.
Oh build your ship of death, oh build it!
for you will need it.
For the voyage of oblivion awaits you. | |
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| If you where Dying, At your funeral...
Posted: 1/23/2008 12:00:35 AM | ^^ Good ol D H Lawrence
WHEN reeds are dead and a straw to thatch the marshes,
And feathered pampas-grass rides into the wind
Like agèd warriors westward, tragic, thinned
Of half their tribe, and over the flattened rushes,
Stripped of its secret, open, stark and bleak,
Blackens afar the half-forgotten creek,–
Then leans on me the weight of the year, and crushes
My heart. I know that Beauty must ail and die,
And will be born again,–but ah, to see
Beauty stiffened, staring up at the sky!
Oh, Autumn ! Autumn !–What is the Spring to me?
"The Death of Autumn" by Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950) | |
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| If you where Dying, At your funeral...
Posted: 1/23/2008 12:28:27 AM | Now that Winter has arrived
And the last petal has fallen
Six feet into the ground
The young bud no longer lives
And the eyes see no more sights
Nor do the ears hear a sound
The sun arises once more
And still the world turns
And Spring for another brings forth new
The wilting of the vine for one
And the sprig chuting upward for another
The meaning of life becomes very true
I came, I did
I lived, I died
And along the way I saw and was seen
It isn't how we view ourselves
It's how others view us
May this once seedling be a respected human being
by me | |
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longte
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Joined: 10/18/2004
Msg: 35 | |
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| If you where Dying, At your funeral...
Posted: 1/23/2008 4:05:21 AM | something like this......
The tide recedes but leaves behind
bright seashells on the sand.
The sun goes down, but gentle
warmth still lingers on the land.
The music stops, and yet it echoes
on in sweet refrains.....
For every joy that passes,
something beautiful remains.
~Anonymous
~B | |
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| If you where Dying, At your funeral...
Posted: 1/23/2008 9:49:05 AM | I'm going to have this read someday
journey's end
sunset penned
glorious radiance
to mortals glance
this weathered coil
shed at last
completion granted
of a well worn path
no sorrow
no pain
eternal dancing
in summerland’s rain
love still lingers
in the air
placed within reach
with loving care
look for me in the season’s songs
For I’ll be there
when the nights are long
look for me in the rising sun
a guide on your path
till the day is done
breathe my loves
for there I’ll be
ever present
watching over thee
no more this earth I roam
Forever smiling
I’ve gone home
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| If you where Dying, At your funeral...
Posted: 1/23/2008 4:40:42 PM | Our host always seems to have the talent to have us thinking in other directions, death is not one that I have personally taken alot of time to consider, yet it is part of life that is certainly inevitable.
I prefer to be remembered as being one who enjoyed life, specifically mother nature and all it offers, so I would say that the following is one that would be most fitting for me if I was to pick a poem to be read at my funeral.
I Did Not Die - Mary Fyre
Do not stand at my grave and forever 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 forever cry.
I am not there. I did not die.
Hoping all is well Niave... | |
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| If you where Dying, At your funeral...
Posted: 1/23/2008 5:03:00 PM | Funny.
Yup, let my funeral give life to the finality of my ever greater self....and bury them beneath the dirt of what Poetry needs and clings to being....place yawn here....
Say me this then.
Toward.
Right now ain't much different than those lost friday nights
16 'n the raw life packed steel and drawn knife
they try like they should hell they've always meant more
'cept when they drift up on next week's shore
I held a life dear shit the mountains wouldn't crave
Ocean to Ocean to the heat and up to Slave
Played the game, played it real knew the stories the winds gave
traded philosophy with a killer yeah his name started with Grave
Traded secrets with the fire way past the word perspire
been close to the Elders and breathed the sacred fire
spent those seven days in hell griped by a primal fear
came face to face with my power, third eye was born I knelled
Tasted the sun from the top of those peaks
gave my child all my love and was there when she reached
my mother my love, thanx for for holdin that chin
thanx for understanding my old soul need to sin..
Light the fire shit man I can feel all your love
saying goodbye in my own way by this stream set above
got some chairs open hell no hurry live that life
I'm here 'neath the blue-jay's song, holding my wife....
~R~ | |
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| If you where Dying, At your funeral...
Posted: 1/24/2008 1:08:56 AM | Grieving is for the living...not for the dead. This I know...from both sides.
And so..an attempt to bring something real into this thread re my own thoughts..although my sentiments on page one are pretty damn close.
a) I wouldnt have a funeral. You tell someone you care when they're living, not after they're dead
b) I dont like control freaks in life, so why would I want to be in some regimented cube or pretermined ceremony when I'm dead?
So here goes. At the wake.......
Vultures to the left
The will's about to be read
I know that you've been waiting now
For years for me to be dead
I'm sorry to have kept you waiting
But I had some living to do
I know that it seemed many more times than once
That my earthly days were through
So many a time I was weakened
Could barely lift a finger
But none of you lot gave a rising toss
Less it looked like I wouldnt linger
I've left the lot to my buddies
All you rellies can bite your own arse
Although you've rehearsed how to walk by a hearse
For as long as it takes...you're a laugh
There's a fund though I set aside for you
And each one of your names been decreed
And from here I'll delight in just watching
As you rip each other apart...in your greed
All alliances wont mean a thing now
As its every dog out for itself
If there's any that want their name off there
There's an empty box on that old shelf
The important stuff stashed there some time ago
Yes its empty, dont sit there and gape
Nothing there most of you would e'er value
So just sit there like good bloated apes
Sit up straight in your chair..there's good rellies
Have you got your best mourning face on
Got your bottle of tears to pour down you?
Good, coz soon I'll be getting along
I'll be watching a while when the notes read
For your faces in my mind will be etched
Every lie on your smiles have been noted
Though I'm dead...you might hear me still retch
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There was one of the multiple gathered
Who decided they wanted no gain
And they got up and asked for the reader
With pen to strike out their own name
And they left, didnt stay for the reading
And they glanced at the shelf on the left
Walked out of the building to sunshine
Left the others to wail, be bereft
Greatest gift I bestowed on that daughter
So much more that she ever will see
For in getting up out of that quagmire
She had shown (to herself) that she's free
Let the others who live their lives snivelling
And who fight tooth and nail for their 'rights'
Be left..yes they're already planning
And they'll probably be there all night
Find a mountain top girl, breathe the forest
And never forget who you are
You have courage beyond the mere mortals
And you shine like the brightest of stars
Find your road, turn your back never on it
Yes your journey was ever the clue
For the treasures in life cant be purchased
Empty box told the story.....you knew.
(c) champrins 24 Jan 2008 | |
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| If you where Dying, At your funeral...
Posted: 1/24/2008 1:54:48 AM |
a) I wouldnt have a funeral. You tell someone you care when they're living, not after they're dead
b) I dont like control freaks in life, so why would I want to be in some regimented cube or pretermined ceremony when I'm dead?
Ditto, J. We's twins.  | |
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| If you where Dying, At your funeral...
Posted: 1/24/2008 2:01:48 AM | If I were dying at my funeral
That would be mistake
Alive if to be there
There would be grand wake!
'Maxed out upon my credit card
An' let the government take!
Steaks to order, no expense spar'd
Grand affair all invited to partake!
Kegs of beer I'd order
Soft drinks to that of choice
Speak me mine own eulogy
In conceited poetic voice!
Perceived enemies to front row sit
To confront with smile if they dare
Able to prevent my grave upon to spit
When all was done in laughter.
Dancing laughing 'live to share
'Tis hoped a train that I go on
With loved friends and family there
With waves and joy of happiness...
Sounds good, I hope I'm there!
Post Scripte: That is why I do enjoy such times today: alive to do so, and love it! | |
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| If you where Dying, At your funeral...
Posted: 1/24/2008 1:16:39 PM | Four Candles for You
by Unknown
The first candle represents our grief.
The pain of losing you is intense.
It reminds us of the depth of our love for you.
This second candle represents our courage.
To confront our sorrow,
To comfort each other,
To change our lives.
This third candle we light in your memory.
For the times we laughed,
The times we cried,
The times we were angry with each other,
The silly things you did,
The caring and joy you gave us.
This fourth candle we light for our love.
We light this candle that your light will always shine.
As we enter this holiday season and share this night of remembrance
with our family and friends.
We cherish the special place in our hearts
that will always be reserved for you.
We thank you for the gift
your living brought to each of us.
We love you.
We remember you.
author, unknown | |
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| If you where Dying, At your funeral...
Posted: 1/24/2008 2:36:10 PM | RUMI
On the DeathbedGo, rest your head on a pillow, leave me alone;
leave me ruined, exhausted from the journey of this night,
writhing in a wave of passion till the dawn.
Either stay and be forgiving,
or, if you like, be cruel and leave.
Flee from me, away from trouble;
take the path of safety, far from this danger.
We have crept into this corner of grief,
turning the water wheel with a flow of tears.
While a tyrant with a heart of flint slays,
and no one says, "Prepare to pay the blood money."
Faith in the king comes easily in lovely times,
but be faithful now and endure, pale lover.
No cure exists for this pain but to die,
So why should I say, "Cure this pain"?
In a dream last night I saw
an ancient one in the garden of love,
beckoning with his hand, saying, "Come here."
On this path, Love is the emerald,
the beautiful green that wards off dragonsnough, I am losing myself.
If you are a man of learning,
read something classic,
a history of the human struggle
and don't settle for mediocre verse. | |
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| If you where Dying, At your funeral...
Posted: 1/24/2008 4:17:14 PM | Omaha lyrics
Counting Crows
Start tearing the old man down
Run past the heather and down to the old road
Start turning the grain into the ground
Roll a new leaf over
In the middle of the night, there's an old man treading around in the gathered
rain
Hey mister if you're going to walk on water
Oh, could you drop a line my way?
Omaha, somewhere in middle America
Get right to the heart of matters
It's the heart that matters more
I think you better turn your ticket in, and get your money back at the door
Start threading the needle
Brush past the shuttle and slides through the cold room
Start turning the wool across the wire
Roll a new life over
In the middle of the night, there's an old man threading his toes through a
bucket of rain
Hey mister you don't wanna walk on water, cause you're only going to walk all
over me
Omaha, somewhere in middle America
Get right to the heart of matters
It's the heart that matters more
I think you better turn your ticket in
and get your money back at the door
Start running the banner down
Drop past the color
Come up through the summer rain
Start turning the girl into the ground
Roll a new love over
In the middle of the day, there's a young man rolling around in the earth and
rain
Hey mister if you're going to walk on water, you know you're only going to walk
all over me
Omaha, somewhere in middle America
Get right to the heart of matters
It's the heart that matters more
I think you better turn your ticket in
and get your money back at the door
Omaha, oh somewhere in middle America
Get right to the heart of matters
Oh, It's the heart that matters more
I think you better turn your ticket in
and get your money back at the door
Sweet Omaha, Sunday morning, I'm coming home today
That be one I would like to hear! While I am 6ft or 10 ft under! Smiles would escape from the broken mouth that once..."gaped" | |
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longte
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Joined: 10/18/2004
Msg: 48 | |
| If you where Dying, At your funeral...
Posted: 1/24/2008 5:40:32 PM | Mettallica was screaming
its rage into the sky
Crocodiles on hang-gliders
were learning how to fly
preachers were in hysterics
on the day I died
as quite contentedly
I'd blazed a trail across their eyes
Blasphemously terrible
at least the way they saw it
who really gives a damn
if a dragons bought it
for we are simply playing here
as true believers know
excuse me for a moment
must piss in the snow
as that will leave reminders
[yellow green the stain]
Go get drunk
enjoy the wake
let memories remain
..
.
 | |
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| If you where Dying, At your funeral...
Posted: 1/24/2008 10:32:25 PM | I believe my life will have been a sideways skid screaming woooohoooo! what a ride! @ the end filled w/ much love, happiness, & laughter. I would like to think that the people that truly know & love me feel the same & if there has to be a letting go ceremony, that it would be a HUGE party filled w/ all of the above & celebration.
Norman Greenbaum
When I die and they lay me to rest
Gonna go to the place that's the best
When I lay me down to die
Goin' up to the spirit in the sky
Goin' up to the spirit in the sky
That's where I'm gonna go when I die
When I die and they lay me to rest
Gonna go to the place that's the best
Prepare yourself you know it's a must
Gotta have a friend in Jesus
So you know that when you die
He's gonna recommend you
To the spirit in the sky
Gonna recommend you
To the spirit in the sky
That's where you're gonna go when you die
When you die and they lay you to rest
You're gonna go to the place that's the best
Never been a sinner I never sinned
I got a friend in Jesus
So you know that when I die
He's gonna set me up with
The spirit in the sky
Oh set me up with the spirit in the sky
That's where I'm gonna go when I die
When I die and they lay me to rest
I'm gonna go to the place that's the best
Go to the place that's the best | |
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| If you where Dying, At your funeral...
Posted: 1/27/2008 5:51:10 PM | A Farewell
by Lord Alfred Tennyson
Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea,
Thy tribute wave deliver:
No more by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever.
Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea,
A rivulet then a river;
No where by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever.
But here will sigh thine alder tree,
And here thine aspen shiver;
And here by thee will hum the bee,
For ever and for ever.
A thousand suns will stream on thee,
A thousand moons will quiver;
But not by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever. | |
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