Personal Poems

2015 General Election

2017 General Election

If

Linda Jane

Love's Terminus

Reflections

The Crematorium

Theresa May (Blunder Woman)

The Way To Everlasting Life

Thoughts On My Brother Ray

Thoughts Sublime

You


The Crematorium

They say we all have some fleeting moments of fame.
Pity, most of us derives that distinctive claim
When we, Heaven bent, glide smoothly through the flame.
The crowd waits, in mournful mood and sombre garb,
Yet loath am I from family and friends to part.
But He decrees; and ceases my beating heart.
Am I too late to hear that melodious harp?

They patiently stand there in whispering clusters.
The autumn leaves are swirling in windy blusters.
My slow arrival, a most elegant muster
In a Bentley, Daimler or Rolls, the final throw
Of a host who knows how to put on a great show.
Bedeck me in flowers to banish spirits low.
Oh vengeful, spiteful fate that gave me such a blow.

They follow me in, my coffin on a trolley,
They enter through portals, shaking out their brollies.
Be seated one and all, but please don’t feel sorry.
The eulogies abound, and praises raised to astound,
The music begins, hymns to sing, while songs are found
To comfort folk who grieve, filling the air with sound.
But what of the “has been,” just ashes in a mound.

They leave through those portals to whence they first arrive,
With choking sobs, moans and groans, wiping tear-stained eyes.
They view the wreaths and bouquets; at least they’re still alive!
For Death’s scythe is wielded and he’s no pretender
Has torn my life apart in his Danse Macabre
My erstwhile life is honoured by those on a bender.
Whilst I remain to brave the flame and be returned to Sender!!

Frank Waller. October 2009





All content © Frank Waller unless stated otherwise