The Funeral - Poem by Chris Embrick1
Though I have been present at more festive occasion,
I confess that I came today of my own persuasion.
More for curiosity than reverence for the man;
and surely not to mourn or shake the widow's hand.
And not for doleful singing or posthmous confession,
And yet I am a party to this solemn procession.
And true I knew the man and we often socialized;
but if the truth be known his habits I despised.
But we never quarreled or came to words of strife;
though he was jealous man and guarded well his wife.
And no, I did not love her or come for what he left;
for she's too much like the man now eulogized in death.
And so I'm here and hes' there and it's not so bad a day;
And when the mound is rounded off I'll go my merry way.
And think nothing more of death or how the day will end.
The more I think about it, he never was my friend.
Comments about The Funeral by Chris Embrick1
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You