Life, Death, Reincarnation and Dinner comical poem 547 by Angela Lansbury

What's life and death to you and me 

For me it's all a mystery

I don't feel reincarnation's

Like changing trains in life's stations

I stare at plates during dinner

Thinking the eater's the winner

Letters to lions from the deer

I'm sure would say, 'Wish you weren't here!'

I'm amazed silent strawberry

Reincarnates into laughing me

How milk turns into yellow teeth

Thin chicken to wide feet beneath 

A teeny weeny bit of me

Only the bit that others see

Stays in paintings and in photos

 All busy posterity knows

My childhood's already long past

Although my hair still grows like grass

I hope this poem stays all day

I'm preserved in a noval or play

Before it's tipped from life's wheelbarrow

When I'm gone like a shadow

And you'll have something left to see

But I won't see, no, no, not me

I shall leave money in banks and wills

To pay for a funeral, lawyers and bills

After death I shan't return

But distribute to hungry worms

Although in life I've a loud voice

After my death I've little choice

The wind will blow and life go on

Your voices sing my silly song.

-end-

Strawberries. Photo by Angela Lansbury. Copyright. 

Plese share links to your favourite posts.

I originally ended with

Other voices will sing my song.

I thought that was too sad.

It's supposed to be a comical poem. You should end with a smile.

So I ended Your foices sing my silly song.

April 1st Jokes - False Flowers? comical poem 546 by Angela Lansbury

 On April 1st some people like

To paint a car just like a bike

I do not mind if what I've heard

Is clearly from first sight absurd

So long as it does not cause pain

But's merely meant to entertain

Looks at life in another way

Some write good night when it is day

All of us spend several hours

Walking past dresses showing flowers

And fake eyelashes helping looks

Bookends and coasters carved like books

Did you stop, stare and wonder why

Old church ceilings look like the sky

Statues show babies, holy heads

And sculptures which mimic the dead?

Pictures and texts long past we feel

Were thought by many to be real

But now you can't say girl or boy

People, like things, are all trompe l'oeuil

'though I don't like to waste my time

I'm happy some try breaking rules

If people make themselves look fools

If it will raise a laugh - that's fine

But turn back to reality

Reassuring normality

Admit you wandered off the path

Just briefly to ensure a laugh

So plant fake seeds, write praise of  weeds

Present gardens of mad misdeeds

I like surpises, but I'm kind,

Hide morals in bouquet punchlines.

Trompe loeuil painting. Wikimedia. Mario-dorf.

-ends-