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Funeral poemsInvisible Ink

Invisible Ink

Modern Plain English Non-religious Gone too soonSuddenTear jerker

Becky Hemsley

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Invisible Ink

Becky Hemsley

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

serany.app

Where to read it

Read it free on Becky's own site

What Serany thinks about this poem

Modern Plain English Non-religious Gone too soonSuddenTear jerker

Meaning

It reads a life as a book that stopped mid-chapter, with the plotlines tangled and no answer to why. The person who shared the pen is gone, but keeps writing into the rest of it unseen.

Who's it for

A family left with a death that came far too early and made no sense. It does not try to supply the reason they are missing.

Becky Hemsley

British

beckyhemsley.com

@talkingtothewild

@beckyhemsleypoetry

Becky Hemsley taught in primary schools before writing full time, and lives in Leicestershire. Six collections since 2021, two of them written entirely for grief. She gives around fifty of her poems away free on her own site.

More about Becky Hemsley →

More emotional poems

20 in all

See all 20 →

Afterwards

This poem is for someone who noticed things other people walked straight past. Right for a gardener, a birdwatcher, or anyone who was kind to animals.

OutdoorsyGentle

1917

2 min

When the Present has latched its postern behind my tremulous stay, And the May month flaps its glad green leaves like wings, Delicate-filmed as new-spun silk, will the neighbours say, "He was a man who used to notice such things"? If it be in the dusk when, like an eyelid's soundless blink, The dewfall-hawk comes crossing the shades to alight Upon the wind-warped upland thorn, a gazer may think, "To him this must have been a familiar sight." If I pass during some nocturnal blackness, mothy and warm, When the hedgehog travels furtively over the lawn, One may say, "He strove that such innocent creatures should come to no harm, But he could do little for them; and now he is gone"? If, when hearing that I have been stilled at last, they stand at the door, Watching the full-starred heavens that winter sees, Will this thought rise on those who will meet my face no more, "He was one who had an eye for such mysteries"? And will any say when my bell of quittance is heard in the gloom, And a crossing breeze cuts a pause in its outrollings, Till they rise again, as they were a new bell's boom, "He hears it not now, but used to notice such things"?

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Again

This poem is for anyone in the first terrible weeks who has caught themselves wishing they had never met. It is the answer to that thought.

ModernPlain English

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

More about this poem →

Dirge Without Music

This poem is for a family who are angry about it and would rather not pretend otherwise. Right for a death that makes no sense to anyone who knew them.

UnusualNon-religious

1928

1 min

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground. So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind: Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned. Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you. Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust. A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew, A formula, a phrase remains,—but the best is lost. The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,— They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve. More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses of the world. Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind; Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave. I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

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Epitaph on a Friend

This poem is for a best friend, especially one who died young. Right for a family who would rather the grief were said out loud than smoothed over.

For a friendGone too soon

1807

2 min

Oh, Friend! for ever lov'd, for ever dear! What fruitless tears have bathed thy honour'd bier! What sighs re-echo'd to thy parting breath, Whilst thou wast struggling in the pangs of death! Could tears retard the tyrant in his course; Could sighs avert his dart's relentless force; Could youth and virtue claim a short delay, Or beauty charm the spectre from his prey; Thou still hadst liv'd to bless my aching sight, Thy comrade's honour and thy friend's delight. If yet thy gentle spirit hover nigh The spot where now thy mouldering ashes lie, Here wilt thou read, recorded on my heart, A grief too deep to trust the sculptor's art. No marble marks thy couch of lowly sleep, But living statues there are seen to weep; Affliction's semblance bends not o'er thy tomb, Affliction's self deplores thy youthful doom. What though thy sire lament his failing line, A father's sorrows cannot equal mine! Though none, like thee, his dying hour will cheer, Yet other offspring soothe his anguish here: But, who with me shall hold thy former place? Thine image, what new friendship can efface? Ah, none!--a father's tears will cease to flow, Time will assuage an infant brother's woe; To all, save one, is consolation known, While solitary Friendship sighs alone.

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Funeral Blues

This poem is for someone who was everything to one person. It's for a mourner who doesn't want cheering up yet, and there's nothing better for a partner.

Tear jerkerNon-religious

1936

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

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Lighthouses

This poem is for a grandmother, read by the daughter who is now raising children of her own without her.

ModernPlain English

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

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Little Boy Blue

This poem is for a small child, and a family who need the loss said simply rather than explained away. It is right where the toys are still in the house.

GentleA classic

1888

1 min

The little toy dog is covered with dust, But sturdy and staunch he stands; And the little toy soldier is red with rust, And his musket moulds in his hands. Time was when the little toy dog was new, And the soldier was passing fair; And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue Kissed them and put them there. "Now, don't you go till I come," he said, "And don't you make any noise!" So, toddling off to his trundle-bed, He dreamt of the pretty toys; And, as he was dreaming, an angel song Awakened our Little Boy Blue-- Oh! the years are many, the years are long, But the little toy friends are true! Aye, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand, Each in the same old place-- Awaiting the touch of a little hand, The smile of a little face; And they wonder, as waiting the long years through In the dust of that little chair, What has become of our Little Boy Blue, Since he kissed them and put them there.

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Music, when soft voices die

This poem is for a musician or a singer, and anyone whose house was always full of music. It also fits a husband or wife, because what it says is that their love outlasts them.

For a musicianFor a partner

1824

20 sec

One More Day

This poem is for anyone who did not get to say goodbye properly. It stays with one ordinary day rather than a whole life, which is what makes it land.

ModernPlain English

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

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Quietly

This poem is for someone whose grief nobody has noticed, because they have kept going to work and kept getting dressed. It says the invisible version counts.

Non-religiousTear jerker

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

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Remember

This poem is for a long marriage, or a parent you were really close to. It's the person who died giving everyone permission to be happy again.

GentleComforting

1862

50 sec

Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land; When you can no more hold me by the hand, Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay. Remember me when no more day by day You tell me of our future that you planned: Only remember me; you understand It will be late to counsel then or pray. Yet if you should forget me for a while And afterwards remember, do not grieve: For if the darkness and corruption leave A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, Better by far you should forget and smile Than that you should remember and be sad.

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Rock Me to Sleep

This poem is for a mother whose children still feel like children when they think of her. Someone whose particular comfort nobody else was ever able to copy.

For a motherTear jerker

1859

3 min

Backward, turn backward, O Time in your flight, Make me a child again just for tonight; Mother, come back from the echoless shore, Take me again to your heart as of yore; Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care, Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair; Over my slumbers your loving watch keep; Rock me to sleep, mother—rock me to sleep. Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years, I am so weary of toil and of tears— Toil without recompense, tears all in vain— Take them, and give me my childhood again! I have grown weary of dust and decay— Weary of flinging my soul-wealth away; Weary of sowing for others to reap; Rock me to sleep, mother—rock me to sleep. Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue, Mother, O mother, my heart calls for you! Many a summer the grass has grown green, Blossomed, and faded our faces between! Yet, with strong yearning and passionate pain Long I tonight for your presence again. Come from the silence so long and so deep— Rock me to sleep, mother—rock me to sleep. Over my heart in the days that are flown No love like mother love ever has shone; No other worship abides and endures— Faithful, unselfish, and patient like yours; None like a mother can charm away pain From the sick soul and world weary brain. Slumber’s soft calms o’er the heavy lids creep— Rock me to sleep, mother—rock me to sleep. Come, let your brown hair, just lighted with gold, Fall on your shoulders again as of old; Let it drop over my forehead tonight, Shading my faint eyes away from the light; For with its sunny edged shadows once more Haply will throng the sweet visions of yore; Lovingly, softly its bright billows sweep; Rock me to sleep, mother—rock me to sleep. Mother, dear mother, the years have been long Since I last hushed to your lullaby song; Sing, then, and unto my soul it shall seem Womanhood’s years have been only a dream. Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace, With your light lashes just sweeping my face, Never hereafter to wake or to weep— Rock me to sleep, mother—rock me to sleep.

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More poems for someone gone too soon

11 in all

See all 11 →

Epitaph on a Friend

This poem is for a best friend, especially one who died young. Right for a family who would rather the grief were said out loud than smoothed over.

For a friendGone too soon

1807

2 min

Read the whole poem →

Epitaph on an Infant

This poem is for a baby, or a child who died very small. It is right where a family believe their child is somewhere safe and being looked after now.

For a babyFor a child

1794

10 sec

For the Fallen

This poem is for anyone who served, and especially someone who died young in uniform. Right for a family who want the words everybody in the room will already know.

For a veteranTraditional

1914

15 sec

It is not growing like a tree

This poem is for anyone who died young, and a family who need to hear that a short life was still a whole one. Right for a person who packed a lot in.

Gone too soonUplifting

1640

35 sec

Little Boy Blue

This poem is for a small child, and a family who need the loss said simply rather than explained away. It is right where the toys are still in the house.

GentleA classic

1888

1 min

Read the whole poem →

The Flame

This poem is for a mother burying her child. It does not pretend that anything makes this bearable, which is why it can be read in the room.

Non-religiousTear jerker

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

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The Soldier

This poem is for someone who served, and especially anyone who died far from home. Right for a family who want something formal and proud.

For a veteranTraditional

1915

55 sec

If I should die, think only this of me: That there's some corner of a foreign field That is for ever England. There shall be In that rich earth a richer dust concealed; A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware, Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam, A body of England's, breathing English air, Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home. And think, this heart, all evil shed away, A pulse in the eternal mind, no less Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given; Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day; And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness, In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

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Warm Summer Sun

This poem is for someone who died young, and a family who want something very short and very tender. Right where a longer reading would be more than anyone could manage.

GentlePlain English

1893

10 sec

When I have fears that I may cease to be

This poem is for a writer, a painter, or anyone who had more they meant to make. It belongs to a person who died in the middle of their work.

For a writerFor an artist

1848

50 sec

When I have fears that I may cease to be Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain, Before high-pilèd books, in charact'ry, Hold like full garners the full-ripen'd grain; When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And feel that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance; And when I feel, fair creature of an hour! That I shall never look upon thee more, Never have relish in the faery power Of unreflecting love;--then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think, Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink.

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With rue my heart is laden

This poem is for a friend, which is the one it is really for, and anyone who died young. Right for someone who was good company and quick on their feet.

For a friendTear jerker

1896

20 sec

More modern poems

41 in all

See all 41 →

Afterlife

This poem is for a child's funeral, or a family who want somewhere hopeful to put the question without naming a religion. It is playful on purpose.

ModernPlain English

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

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Afterparty

This poem is for a family being swallowed by the ugly end of grief. It tells them what the anger is made of without asking them to feel better yet.

ModernPlain English

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

More about this poem →

Again

This poem is for anyone in the first terrible weeks who has caught themselves wishing they had never met. It is the answer to that thought.

ModernPlain English

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

More about this poem →

All At Once

This poem is for a family who feel they are grieving wrongly, especially anyone who caught themselves laughing. It tells them nothing has gone wrong.

ModernPlain English

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

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Bus Shelter

This poem is for someone who thought the fuss about dying was a bit much. Right for a commuter, a queuer, anyone who spent their life waiting patiently for things.

FunnyModern

2015

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chasing ceremony/convincing myself

This poem is for somebody who loved them and cannot be in the room. Right where a brother is abroad, a sister is too ill to travel, or the person who knew them longest is the one who has to watch on a screen.

ModernPlain English

2021

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

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Chasing Tomorrow

This poem is for a family who keep saying they wish they had had more time. It turns that into a resolution instead of a regret.

ModernPlain English

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

More about this poem →

Dirge Without Music

This poem is for a family who are angry about it and would rather not pretend otherwise. Right for a death that makes no sense to anyone who knew them.

UnusualNon-religious

1928

1 min

Read the whole poem →

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

This poem is for almost anyone, honestly. It's best of all for someone who was always outside: out walking, in the garden, never in the house.

A classicComforting

1932

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Firsts

This poem is for a family looking down the barrel of the first year. It does not tell them it gets better, only that it stops happening for the first time.

ModernPlain English

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

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Flowers

This poem is for a family dreading the first birthday and the first anniversary. It hands back the obligation before anybody has to feel guilty about it.

ModernPlain English

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

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Friendship

This poem is for a friend, read by a friend. It suits the person who turned up without being asked, over and over, for years.

ModernPlain English

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

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