Let these funeral poems give you words that express thoughts
about dying and loved ones. May they be ones that you share with
others at their time of sorrow.
Don't Bring Me Flowers
Poet: Greta Zwaan, 2018
Please, don't bring flowers to my grave, unless theyíre from your garden.
I have no qualms with greenhouse trade, and so I beg their pardon.
But I can't smell them when I'm gone or find joy in their beauty,
And, you donít owe me anything; please, donít think it's your duty.
The thing I ask that you should think is about the living;
Of souls who have not heard Godís Word, that's where you should be giving.
Hear missions cry for funds abroad, Oh, hear their desperate pleading!
They long to do the work of God, those hungry souls need feeding.
For every rose you'd give, a Bible would be better,
A rose cannot convey God's truth, a rose is not His letter.
A rose can't buy a loaf of bread, or help a crying nation,
When thirst and hunger fill their lives then where is their salvation?
The money that you'd spend on me to make my grave attractive,
Might last for just a day or two but soon become inactive.
The rose will die, the flowers fade, just like the grave they cover;
Their fragrance cast upon the wind as in the air they hover.
But think of all the good you'd do and oh, how it would bless them,
To give the funds to serve the need for things that so distress them.
Yes, missions needs it more than I, my time has no more measure;
My soul has left the empty tomb; I've found my heavenly treasure.
So bring good news to souls abroad, and PLEASE! Don't bring me flowers,
God's heav'nly garden's all I need, I walk in His rose bowers.
But you on earth, your job's not done, your mission still means sharing;
Not for the dead with sweet bouquets, but for the needy, caring.
The Bible is very clear on life and death.
Death is not the end but a beginning.
Jason A. Ponzio
Do Not Stand By My Grave And Weep
Poet: Mary Elizabeth Frye
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 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.
There is no cure for grief which time does not lessen and soften.
Death In Disguise
Out of Earth's weariness, trial, and sorrow,
Out of its hopes and its fears for the morrow,
Out of its restless unsatisfied yearnings.
Out of the fever of human heart-burnings,
Out of the dangers of doubt and temptations,
Out of the griefs of deplored separations.
Out of the pain of night-watching, removed
Into the sleep that God gives His Beloved:
Into the dawn of a glad Resurrection,
Into the home of unbroken affection,
Into the joy of the Lord, thence confessing
Death in disguise is His Angel of Blessing.
Perhaps they are not stars but rather openings in heaven
where the love of our lost ones shines down to let us know they are happy.
Silence Gives No Comfort
Poet: Greta Zwaan, 2018
Stillness is no remedy for a heart that is distraught,
Loneliness is torture when comfort's being sought.
Silence is a burden when all I want is gone,
Laughter is now missing but grief still lingers on.
I long to hear you singing as you so loved to do,
I want to watch the sun set as I sit next to you.
I want to go on journeys, the ones we planned to take,
To view the sights together as we sit by the lake.
For years we've been too busy, weíre always on the run,
Too many obligations, so much had to be done.
When sunset years approached us, it caught us by surprise,
We were so far from ready; we didn't realize
That all our days are numbered, extensions don't exist.
We need to use each moment so they will not be missed.
The time that makes a memory, the wink that makes you smile;
The silly, funny moments, the ones that are worthwhile.
The things that might seem trivial are worth their weight in gold,
The gestures that seem common are now the ones you hold.
The hurt lies in the silence where laughter should have been
And turned my light to darkness, so deep and unforeseen.
Where do I turn for comfort? Where can I find relief?
Who else has known such sorrow, who else has known such grief?
Then God responds with answers for which I long had sought,
That memory, long forgotten, were truths I had been taught.
God is my true companion; He walks with me each day,
Despair need not be present; His light will guide the way.
I cannot hold you near me, except within my heart,
But one day I will join you, and all grief will depart.
Till then I'll tread on bravely, I know Iím not alone;
And when my work is finished my Lord will call me home.
God shall wipe all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, nor crying,
neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.
Revelation 21: 4
Poet: Henry Reed Conant
The deepest sorrow fills the heart
To see our loved ones perish;
But soon or late we all must part
With those we fondly cherish.
The tie must break with friend and friend:
The true and noble-hearted
Must one day reach their journey's end,
To join the dear departed.
Why mourn we, then, for those who cross
The intervening river?
Although to us a heavy loss,
To them is joy forever.