Sample Memorial Poems
Baking Buns in Heaven
My Aunty Sheila left us last Saturday,
The angels came for her at last.
She’s baking buns in heaven now,
Our time with her is past.
We must now take comfort in memories,
Of which she left us so many.
Because, deep in our hearts we know,
Of our tears, she wouldn’t want any.
Is there a bus to town at the bottom of your cloud?
Do they let you go calling through the pearly gates?
Is your kitchen as cosy and filled with noise,
From all that gather there, family and mates?
Have you found a new cruise to go on?
Or a mystery trip to the sea?
Is there a club where you can play bingo
And maybe win a tin of beans or three?
Have you figured out a budget for the angels,
With that quick and lively mind?
Are you a friend to all up there too?
You were so very, very, kind.
I hope they’re looking after you, the way that you did for us,
So much so that none of us were untouched.
I hope you find the peace you deserve,
We miss you so very, very much.
We know that you’ll always be with us,
And that you didn’t want to go.
We know that you’ll always be with us,
Because we loved you so.
Now I’m not sure I’ve said enough,
There seems to be so much more.
But words are hard to find,
When you’re hurt down to the core.
I tried to raise a smile,
I may have raised a tear.
But this was all for Aunty Sheila,
My friend so very, very dear.
Green is for Remembrance
A Tribute in Memory of Dorothy Atkinson
1939-2013
So now green is for remembrance,
And yellow roses too.
And the slippers in the hall
That lie and wait here still, for you.
You're everywhere in my home,
And in my garden too.
And yet nowhere in my life,
And I don’t know what to do.
From the pegs on the washing line,
To your special china cup,
From pictures on the walls,
To London in a book.
And what will I do now on Sundays
When it gets to our 8 o’clock call?
Who shall I phone to wish goodnight
Now that you're no place I can call.
Oh I’ve cried a river alright,
And all of its tributaries too.
Because it's hard not think of what might have been,
When memories can't yet pull me through.
Because everywhere there is you,
And yet nowhere is there you.
A Tree with a View
In Memory of Derek Stott
1939-2019
A Christmas rose,
A tree with a view.
These are the things
I have left, of you.
An old fashioned scarf,
A bright orange shirt,
A handful of books,
A candle at night.
Feeding the birds,
Making some bread.
Things I was taught,
By the voice in my head.
A green eyed baby,
With the spirit to live,
A bright little boy,
With so much to give.
These are the things,
In which,
I will always,
Have you.