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When I Die, Turn My Pockets Out

by Benny Shlesinger 2 years ago in sad poetry
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A Poem

When I die I want you to turn my pockets out.

I can’t take anything with me anyway.

When I die, turn my pockets out.

So both God and the Devil know I’ve paid.

When I go, I want you to set me on fire.

Set me ablaze on a humble pyre.

I don’t want it grand, that’s not what I’ve planned.

When I go, when that is I don’t know, that is what I desire.

When I’m done, I want you to hold my son.

Tell him it’s ok and that I’ve had my fun.

My children I love you, I’m right there above you

Don’t you worry so hard, sing the songs I’ve sung.

When I pass, I want you to cry.

Let the tears flow for a moment, let them fly.

This somber stone do not hold, I’d rather you let it go

This is not my forever goodbye.

When I’ve gone, I want you to mourn.

With smoke and ale and a cornucopia horn.

I’ve lived a good life, despite the meddlesome strife

And when your times comes I’ll meet you on a golden shore.

When I’m cold, I want you to bury me away.

It does not do to overstay.

To have known you has been a pleasure I shall treasure forever

I’ll put in a good word for you, I’ve plenty good to say.

When I die I want you to turn my pockets out.

I can’t take anything with me anyway.

When I die, turn my pockets out.

So both God and the Devil know I’ve paid.

I love you dearly, my dear,

In your arms, I’ve never feared,

Know my love isn’t trapped in this grave.

My Love, to you I am bound, though I’m now in the ground.

I’ll meet you next time, I’ll see you that day.

sad poetry

About the author

Benny Shlesinger

Amateur philosopher, avid keyboard pitter-patterer

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