A/N This poem is a narrative I wrote in 8th grade about my grandfather's funeral a few summers before. It mainly focuses on the surealness and difficulty I had processing it.
I know i said i would be also putting pictures i have taken on the side, but i need to figure that out first :(
Now his has to be my favorite poem I have ever written, even in its simplicity. The bluebird is the only fictitious element in this poem. The symbolism of the bluebird is that it is my grandfathers spirit with us one last time before moving on and "washing" away in the rain.
A Bluebird’s Call
The morning air was hot and heavy,
Hanging close to the ground.
Muggy rain was on the forecast,
But there was not one cloud around.
A mass of black we were,
Staring at the bricks
Ornately carved with names,
Praying this was just one of his old tricks.
But no, the truth
Was right in front of me,
Surrounded by those
So lost in tears, they could hardly see.
Our congregation started up the walk,
Following the pallbearers
To a patch of green grass,
And breathed in an air perfumed with flowers.
A man I do not know
Begun to speak words I do not recall,
After we all took a seat
And listened to a bluebird’s call.
My cousin, the bravest eight-year-old,
Stepped up to the priest,
To fulfill his role as alter-boy,
His eyes red, he was composed the least.
Red roses were passed around,
As the prayers were being said.
Except for me, everyone began to cry
For the great man we all knew as “Poppy Fred”.
Uniformed men, highly decorated,
Holding the American flag in glove,
Raised their arms in salute
To a fellow soldier who is loved.
Slowly and deliberately, we all stood
As the clouds began to leak,
Clutching roses and watching
The casket lower with a creak.
Our black mass formed a single line,
And so the funeral could come to a close,
Each person said goodbye
Laying down their heat-wilted rose.
It was now my turn for a final “goodbye”,
So my fingers let go and my rose began to fall.
Just as a drop fell on my cheek, creating the tear
My eyes would not produce, I heard the bluebird’s call.
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Poems
PoeziePoems I have written from years ago to now. For any of you looking for a love poem, you most likely will not find one here (unless I write one in the distant future because for some reason my brain short-circuited and thought I it would be a good id...
