Poetry to die for...

[Graeme]

Or not actually.

I'm often asked to read tributes at funerals, because it is simply too emotionally exhausting for some people to do when they are grieving. It is an honour to be asked and something I take very seriously. Occasionally I'm asked to read poetry - but my repitoir doesn't extend beyond John Cooper Clarke, Philip Goss and Dr Seuss.

Shamelessly looking for inspiration: what poem would you like read at your funeral? I'm really not bothered about faith/humanist references, I'm more interested in learning about some beautiful poetry.

[Cudzoziemiec]

I'm not sure about funerals but I find the poetry of Wisława Szymborska sad and beautiful. Like most poetry, it's probably better untranslated though, so not much use to you, sorry.

[Ruthie]

Something by Louis MacNeice maybe. Or a quote from TS Eliot's Four Quartets.

[Ruthie]

I Shall Not Go To Heaven When I Die is a favourite of mine.

[Mr Larrington]

It'd have to be "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night" by G D Thomas.

Followed by a swift burst of Bon Scott-era AC/DC and onto the bonfire

[citoyen]

We had the Celtic blessing at my mother in law's decidedly secular funeral. "May the road rise up to meet you..." - potent stuff and not overtly religious.

For me, Im Abendrot (At sunset) by Joseph Von Eichendorff, as set to music by Richard Strauss in his Four Last Songs. Also rather nice and also used by Strauss was Beim Schlafengehen (When I go to sleep) by Herman Hesse, but it's the former that breaks me up every time.

[Quisling]

Pam Ayres:

Don’t lay me in some gloomy churchyard shaded by a wall
Where the dust of ancient bones has spread a dryness over all,
Lay me in some leafy loam where, sheltered from the cold
Little seeds investigate and tender leaves unfold.
There kindly and affectionately, plant a native tree
To grow resplendent before God and hold some part of me.
The roots will not disturb me as they wend their peaceful way
To build the fine and bountiful, from closure and decay.
To seek their small requirements so that when their work is done
I’ll be tall and standing strongly in the beauty of the sun.

[Karla]

Psalm 116 - but you knew that anyway.

[jsabine]

Psalm 116 - but you knew that anyway.

"Thanksgiving for recovery from illness"? At a funeral?

[Karla]

It's got a lot of stuff about returning to the Lord and about how He provides for us, both in life and in death.

The titles to the psalms are a bit iffy anyway tbh.

[Graeme]

Psalm 116 - but you knew that anyway.

"Thanksgiving for recovery from illness"? At a funeral?

[Legs]

John Donne, Holy Sonnet 10?

[Graeme]

John Donne, Holy Sonnet 10?

Thanks for that legs.

[Wowbagger]

Grey's elegy - if you've only got the one funeral to conduct... 

[Ian H]

For E's mother's funeral I chose this:-
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44325/the-darkling-thrush

[Graeme]

Thank you.

[Ruthie]

The Caged Skylark by Gerard Manley Hopkins. There y'go.

[Peter]

Thank you.

I agree with Wow.  But the Elegy is too long for most services - and anyway takes some study.  But there are isolated verses that stand alone.

"One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill,
         Along the heath and near his fav'rite tree;
Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
         Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he;

or


No farther seek his merits to disclose,
       Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,
(There they alike in trembling hope repose)
       The bosom of his Father and his God.


I thought of "Hoary headed swain" when I saw you at Eskdalemuir on LEL!

[Cunobelin]

Pam Ayres:

Don’t lay me in some gloomy churchyard shaded by a wall
Where the dust of ancient bones has spread a dryness over all,
Lay me in some leafy loam where, sheltered from the cold
Little seeds investigate and tender leaves unfold.
There kindly and affectionately, plant a native tree
To grow resplendent before God and hold some part of me.
The roots will not disturb me as they wend their peaceful way
To build the fine and bountiful, from closure and decay.
To seek their small requirements so that when their work is done
I’ll be tall and standing strongly in the beauty of the sun.

Thank you for that

One of my colleagues had a humanist ceremony and was buried in a woodland area

If you can have a "best funeral" then this was it and several of us are sincerely looking at this as an option

[Cunobelin]

I quite like Frank Turner's lyrics for "One foot before the other", which could easily be adapted, but they may be a little to irreverent for some:

Verse 1]
On the very day I day, the very last of my desires
Is that you take my broken body and commit it to the fire
And then when the fire is finished, scrape the ashes in a tin
Take them down to London's drinking reservoirs and throw them in

And then specks infinitesimal of my mortal remains
Will slide down seven million throats and into seven million veins
And I will creep through their capillaries to the marrow of their bones
And they will wake to bright new mornings and then wordlessly they'll know

[Chorus]
That I remain
I am remembered
I remain
I am remembered

[Verse 2]
So these seven million innocents, they will have me in their blood
And when they die, they'll burn their bodies or be buried in the mud
And I will spread through streams and rivers like a virus through a host
From the hamlets to the cities, from the rivers to the coast

And from there into the Channel across the great Atlantic Ocean
And ever onwards to the new world, through the water's gentle motions
Until parts of me are part of every land mass, every sea
In the rain, up on your crops and in the very air you breathe

[Chorus]
I remain
I am remembered
I remain
I am remembered
I remain

[Bridge]
And all the things I love will be washed away in the rain
I remain

I'm not convinced of the existence of these things that don't exist
Yeah, by Jewish boys with big ideas and scratches on their wrist
By a loving or a vengeful God, or one who condescends
Who'll wash his hands down in the mire among the misery of men
Or by ever turning circles hanging timeless in the sky
Like a dream catcher distracting from the fact you're gonna die

But I place one foot before the other, confident because
I know that everything we are right now is everything that was
That Wat Tyler, Woody Guthrie, Dostoevsky and Davy Jones
Are all dissolved into the ether and have crept into my bones
And all the cells in all the lines upon the backs of both my hands
Were once carved into the details of two feet upon the sand, so

[Chorus]
We remain
We are remembered
We remain
We are remembered
We remain

[Bridge]
And all the things we love will be washed away in the rain
We remain

[andyoxon]

This was one of my father's favourite poems...

Everyone Sang 
By Siegfried Sassoon (1920; re. end of war/conflict)

Everyone suddenly burst out singing;
And I was filled with such delight
As prisoned birds must find in freedom,
Winging wildly across the white
Orchards and dark-green fields; on - on - and out of sight.

Everyone's voice was suddenly lifted;
And beauty came like the setting sun:
My heart was shaken with tears; and horror
Drifted away ... O, but Everyone
Was a bird; and the song was wordless; the singing will never be done.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/siegfried-sassoon

[Graeme]

I thought of "Hoary headed swain" when I saw you at Eskdalemuir on LEL!

as chat up lines go, this one could do with reworking.
 

[Peter]

Yes, I thought you'd spot the possibilities!

[Ian H]

I can thoroughly recommend the Oxford Book of Death, compiled by DJ Enright.  It has epitaphs, last words, poetry, humour, etc.

Not sure it has this mock epitaph:-

I'm Smith of Stoke aged 60 odd
I lived from youth-time on
Without a dame
And wish to God
My Dad had done the same

[Exit Stage Left]

I'm a big fan of Ecclesiastes 1. Which is probably the answer you didn't want.