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This Poem was Submitted By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2004-04-21 18:50:43 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Instructions for My Burial

Dress me in my moss green sweater, my mother’s pearls, clean jeans and soft socks. Place a granite coffee pot at my head pine cones at my feet, grandmother’s “Blue Monday Poems" in my hands. Pour sea water, enough to cover. Read Psalm
1, “Silver Pennies”, Mary Oliver’s “What Do We Know” Send in picture for the newspaper obituary -- a black and white photograph of the moon or my father’s painting of a goldfish or close-up snapshot of the dog’s nose. Musicians, if available: red-headed woodpeckers, Pacific tree frogs, rain.

Additional Notes:
My heart not haughty is, O Lord, mine eyes not lofty be; Nor do I deal in matters great, or things too high for me. I surely have myself behaved with quiet sp'rit and mild, As child of mother weaned: my soul is like a weanèd child. Upon the Lord let all the hope of Israel rely, Ev'n from the time that present is unto eternity. (Scottish Psalter)

This Poem was Critiqued By: Jennifer j Hill On Date: 2004-05-07 16:38:11
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.84848
I'm feasting on your work today, Joanne! This is just glorious. I knew it would be great when I read the title. Where did you come up with this idea? It's perfection! The alliteration is musical in: my/moss, my/mother's, soft/socks-which also has assonance. Ha! A granite coffee pot(assonance) at your head! Love it! To be preserved in sea water, yeah me too, please. Nice choice of what to read. The choices of pics for the obit made me laugh out loud. And perfect music choices! You're such an earth child, what better way to go then with pine cones at your feet. What fun this one is. I love your sense of humor. Not everyone can be this whimsical about their funeral. lol It's good for the soul though, isn't it? Well, your poetry is sustaining me quite nicely today. I'm tucking this idea away in my brain for future reference of something to do'to lighten my mood on a rainy day. Blessings, Jennifer

This Poem was Critiqued By: Sherri L Smith On Date: 2004-05-06 22:19:58
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.07407
Dear Joanne, Though at first I thought this a pretty gruesome subject for a poem, I was entranced with the images, and I can picture you as you walk in your lovely surroundings. I imagine you as a beautiful Katherine Hepburn, willing the world to be what you see it as and the wonderful ways you describe it. Thanks for another lovely work of art. Sherri

This Poem was Critiqued By: G. Donald Cribbs On Date: 2004-04-30 17:52:54
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.59459
Joanne, I only got the privilege of reading this one after searching for all poems. Too many people critiqued this one before I got to see it on the list. I absolutely LOVE this one! It's terribly witty, pokes fun at death and does it without being insulting, rather, you're entirely endearing with this one. Wow, wow, wow!!! You go, girl! I am so glad I came here today so I could read this and remember to take life a little less serious (at times) and to stop and smell the pinecones. Thank you so much for sharing this one with us. Warm regards, Don

This Poem was Critiqued By: Erzahl Leo M. Espino On Date: 2004-04-25 23:26:09
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 8.73333
Hi Joanne, This is something new from you Joanne! New but not new…you have written so many versatile subjects that absolutely captures the essence of life. With your additional notes, the humbleness of surrendering oneself back to his/her Creator, offering himself/herself in simplicity by surrounding yourself with memories and something precious and dear to your heart is a straightforward declaration of your gratefulness with life! You are appreciative to God and to the people around you especially the family and friends. For me, “Instructions for My Burial” is a love covenant! “my mother’s pearls,” --- This is sweet and touching. “grandmother’s “Blue Monday Poems"” --- I remembered your great National Artist grandmother…I’m interested to hear what’s that “Blue Monday Poems” about? A sample to peek its content would be great! :) --- I like how you include this one…it shows how close you are with granny, the source and inspiration of your talent! “Pour sea water, enough to cover.” --- I find this ceremonial! And it also shows your strong bonding with nature! “Read Psalm
1, “Silver Pennies”, Mary Oliver’s “What Do We Know”” --- Great choices! Profound pieces that reflects who you are Joanne! a black and white photograph of the moon --- This is mysterious yet I like it very much, it speaks much of you Joanne! my father’s painting of a goldfish --- This is delightful! I could not comment for more! close-up snapshot of the dog’s nose. --- It represents the “fun” side of you, which I can see and feel…”a lot”! To choose from the three, I like the black and white moon the most! It just says a lot about you as a poet and your love with anything astronomical! And the touch of “black and white” just summarized what a unique and great poet you are! A bit mysterious, deep and soulful! “Musicians, if available: red-headed woodpeckers, Pacific tree frogs, rain.” --- Just magnificent! Two thumbs up! I observed that you are into rhythm, music and melody with nature lately. You and nature sure is a wonderful paired duet! You both harmonize in quality, passion and depth. From the three musicians, I like the ever flowing, synchronous “rain”! There is something in it that is “soul-reaching”…just like your poems, just like this! Excellent! As always, Erzahl :)

This Poem was Critiqued By: Turner Lee Williams On Date: 2004-04-25 22:25:56
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.64000
Joanne–I share your sentiments for a special and personal interment. I have also placed my wishes in a living will. It appears that you’ve chosen some comfortable, familiar, interesting and fun things to encase yourself with at the proper time. This is an excellent list poem and a great way to treat such a somber subject. The piece completely fooled me right up to “Place...;” then I started smiling. “Pour...;”and “Send in picture for the newspaper obituary–...” instructions are memorable. “Read...” gave me pause (especially Psalm
1), the others I took note of for a later project-smile. The ending of, “Musicians, if available:...,” absolutely priceless. Sorry, if I have misread your effort, but I’ve so enjoyed my interpretations. TLW

This Poem was Critiqued By: Mell W. Morris On Date: 2004-04-25 16:27:51
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.90476
Joyful Emeritus: Your poem is #47 on my list and there's no way it will wend its way higher. I've been trying to amass a few points so I will have a tiny bit of v.p. But which Uppendahl fan can resist this? That "Instructions for My Burial" can make me laugh aloud is a miracle of writing. Sad as the thought of your obit, your instructions are so YOU. Dress me in my moss green sweater, my mother's pearls, clean jeans and soft socks. I love the color moss green and it would be a good color for you based on the one photo I've seen. "Soft socks" seep comfort in its alliterative way and all you mention are leisure-wear, comfy clothes with one touch of elegance...mother's pearls. These are the perfect burial wear, IMO. Place a granite coffee pot at my head pine cones at my feet, grandmother's "Blue Monday Poems" in my hands. Does granite pot refer to those old deep-blue ones with a handle? Unfamiliar with your grandmother's poetry, her title is apropos for the occasion. It doesn't get mush sadder than blue Monday when someone dies. I picture that blue coffee pot and the blue poems with pine cones added and it's quite the scene! I envision the pine cones as brown (mine would be gilded because my sister would add that artificial touch) with their scent intact. Pour sea water, enough to cover. This is reminiscent of a recipe but such an irony, I smiled. Of course, you must rest eternally in your soothing sea, pickled in her brine. In fact, if not for the sensibilities of your family who need to visit your burial site, I wager you would opt to be buried at sea. Read Psalm
1, "Silver Pennies", Mary Oliver's "What Do We Know". Again, not familiar with the last two works cited but I looked up Psalm
1, easy for it follows my favorite Psalm, and the bible quickly opens to that page. "Surely I have behaved and quieted myself"...too true. "My soul is even as a weaned child"...such wondrous words you choose, Joanne! I find your eyes lofty but I comprehend the import of humility herein. Haughty heart? Never! Then your choice of picture to accompany your obit. Hysterical and this is where I laughed. "Close-up snapshot of the dog's nose." I would add photos from Hubble and one of Ms. Tsa. Musicians, if available: red-headed woodpeckers, Pacific tree frogs, rain. Your music is nothing short of divine and I would have anticipated the sound of a bird. The thought of the tree-frog sounds is wonderful and your single, ending word perfect. It is also YOU. You have taken what would normally seem a morbid topic and woven a tapestry of clear, simple beauty. There is a spareness here of grand appeal with a soupcon of humor, a measure of melancholy placed just so. This is one of the type poems that brings laughter and tears. As you routinely accomplish with all of your pieces. This one touches deeply, especially to those of us who have come to "know" you through your writing. The spirituality is present as I would expect, your auntiness in old jeans with soft socks (only you), your vision in citing the lack of lofty eyes. Your imaginative gifts in selection of photo, your appreciation for the best music in your choice of musicians. This is grand, superlative, an eclat for my simple Sunday. My deepest thanks to you for sharing your richness with us. Standing ovation!! Nekk

This Poem was Critiqued By: Rick Barnes On Date: 2004-04-25 15:51:57
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Joanne, How you do sculpt. This could as easily have been titled, "Instructions For My Being" You so thoroughly encompass what (your) life means in these few phrases. Dress me in my moss green sweater, I would normally read this, and the following lines, symbolically, not really caring if the poet owned or had even seen a "moss green sweater". But you? Somehow I know you actually own these things, and it is all the more in keeping with Joanne-the-Poet that you do. There seems to be no separation between you and the poetry. Some folks write poetry. You ARE poetry. It is as if you are saying to the earth herself, "Dress me in my moss green sweater". How of the earth can one expression be? my mother’s pearls, ...again, return me to the precious perfection that mother nature allows clean jeans and soft socks. and let me take with me the simplicity of humble comfort Place a granite coffee pot at my head This one tossed me. Comedic, and yet subtle. A Granite coffee pot. Do you really own such an item? I am reminde of the ancients who use to bury healing herbs in granite pots at the head of the departed. I can only imagine the face of the archeologist who, 10,000 years hence, digs up a granite pot full of coffee. And yet, I feel that this would supply an adequate clue were the history slueth to paying close enough attention. pine cones at my feet, of course grandmother’s “Blue Monday Poems" in my hands. This struck me especially deep. I love the vision of the continuous whole that this affords. Pour sea water, enough to cover. Ocean is a relative term. When covered, how deep need it be? Beautiful! Read Psalm
1, “Silver Pennies”, Mary Oliver’s “What Do We Know” As I said, you are poetry. You blend the child in us, the nature in us, the quite force within represented by these works, (you might include some works of your own, but of course, you wouldn't). You take these meanings with you and at the same time leave them behind. Send in picture for the newspaper obituary -- a black and white photograph of the moon or my father’s painting of a goldfish or close-up snapshot of the dog’s nose. This is the most poignant collage of you that I can imagine. And again it contains the child, the nature, and the quite force within. Musicians, if available: red-headed woodpeckers, Pacific tree frogs, rain. I am quite sure they will make the gig Joanne. Should I transform before you, I'll come as the rain. Further Along, Rick

This Poem was Critiqued By: Marcia McCaslin On Date: 2004-04-22 22:03:57
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.97297
Dear Joanne--I have to respond now--2 hrs. ago you were up near the top. Now you are nearly at the bottom--I HATE THIS PART ABOUT THE SITE--it's like "time (nor the Poetic Link) waits for no man. Gheeze--I just had to fix supper--that's all! Anyway, this is beautiful--and really touches me where I live because I have wondered what I, too, should leave as instructions. No one ever thinks to leave 'beautiful' instructions--it's just blah blah blah blah. The old legalese--etc. "Upon the Lord let all the hope of Israel rely." oh I am taken aback. I am breathless in the face of this writing. I am stamped into the rock of this reality. !! We must be kindred spirits--I can see no way around it. (now here I am commenting on your additional notes--but, as I've said before, not only to you but others I have commented on---we ARE our poetry--just as we ARE our critiques--and just as we ARE our "additional notes." I often think--when the Lord sits me down and asks: ok--what are the premises of your reality--I will start with blah blah blah and continue into blah blah blah and end with: THe Lord Our God-the Lord of Israel--is One. Because everything hangs thereupon. (for me In my humble opinion.) Your first verse: Dress me in my moss green sweater, my mother’s pearls, clean jeans and soft socks. is so elemental--I can see you, Joanne--as I can see myself. Nothing fancy, please, just "comfort clothes" and add the sentiment of mother's pearls. You come from such depths, it makes me cry. Place a granite coffee pot at my head pine cones at my feet, grandmother’s “Blue Monday Poems" in my hands. I know we are not supposed to do this (but I'm so mad at this site, I will!!!) a granite coffee pot--now what kind of memories are entwined in that--I suppose it's a future poem or perhaps a past one that I have not read) Pine cones. Oh, me too. Me too. I wrote a story once: Save A Green One For Me--and it was to this same effect--when it's all over, the green things (I consider pine cones to be in that bunch) those are the things that were important. Your grandmother's writings--I think she is smiling from heaven at her "little granddaughter" who followed in her footsteps. Sea water, enough to cover--sounds like a recipe. In this case: hmmmmm. (reader laughs). I confess I haven't read Ps.
1 lately--and if I do it now, this whole thing will dissolve from my screen, so will read it afterward, but the idea is there--and I am taking notes because I may have to plagiarize when I get ready to do "mine". ! Oh, the picture-thing is funny-==and I'll tell you why. I keep wanting a "great glamour shot" of myself for the ob. column--and everything turns out to be terrible--and I think perhaps, the dog's nose (or moon) might just say it all. I will keep this in mind as I struggle for the perfect 'shot'. Musicians, if available: red-headed woodpeckers, Pacific tree frogs, rain. This is too funny. Yes, wouldn't we all love musicians--but in the event we can't get musicians-- well, yes, red-headed woodpeckers would be nice--or if we can't get those, the frogs--or rain. I thank God for you, Joanne. I don't care how 'strange' it sounds. I'm at the age where I can thank God for whatever-the-heck-I want-to! Thanks for this wonderful poem. (You realize it makes it hard to 'choose'. Oh well--I can face hard choices! Your friend--Marcia

This Poem was Critiqued By: Jordan Brendez Bandojo On Date: 2004-04-22 19:13:51
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.54545
Dear Aunty Joanne, I am scared with your title "Instructions for My Burial". My mind seems to refuse to respond this kind of stimulus. When our loved ones mention regarding this matter, we usually cut his/her words. Of course, as much as possible we want tehm live forever. But it is a reality. Going to that state of our life is gonna be mournful but we must face it and be ready with it. Let me reread.... I could not critique further, Aunty Joanne, nor share to you my own instructions. I am scared for now to talk about it! I am not yet satisfied with life and still longing for my favorites that I could include them in the instructions. But I would keep note of that instructions of yours, for sure! Thanks for sharing this (If I'm gonna think about it) melacholy piece. Jordan

This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne Duval Morgan On Date: 2004-04-22 05:02:57
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.83333
no litnany, just a simple persons wish, Youknow as I read this I'm of the population that s dealing with impended thought that dwell probably of the envtable ending, death is no fearsome creature to me, as your poem attuded to the potential of death, I've and been calmed, by a poem written by one who has no impending gloom, written with clear vision stating how the ending will proceed, it's almost what life demands pf us, wishes on what glory lays and Mother earth talks to Mother moon, to take us and flolow thought with the superior givings, that we really enjoyed our jurney as mortal beings, now send me to the glory in the simplness of last wishes, simple and clean with a jorney into eternity, and when the spirit of life has ended as mortal being I'm goint to the ultimate peace of tansquility, of going hgome, the glory trail of my being, ready to accept the final judgement, and the swoosh of my energy force returning to Gods creation, a gentle reminder given in a poem to me that speaks the power mortal lige is ended, now I become a shadow in the final act, no regrets, no real strong wish to end my time here, but an understanding of what the end would present, my wishes return to the cosmic pool all life springs from. Heh Heh, the say I die will be a no quitting, it will be the body )mortal) that is tired, and willing accept that Glory ride Home. Joanne it's great, I mist be healthy, for it's brought out an acceptance, that my job is done now. Life will go on, those left behind will drieve, but I tell them that gory sound will remain, and one truly goes away, they just return the energy to the source, and the creator will use that energy to sustain the earth;s pluse. It's really an excitement for me, to live the process, and one of these days I'll write a version, to join the many versions, hopefully to equal your ability with wors, it;s all building up, who know my words may hurt some, but that not been the pluse of my life. God is gracious, and he knows and he'll know and let me know to be ready. What a lovely spay of energy my semise will make, just a quite surge readlily awaiting, with breath that knows the emotion, and excitementt. Then it will come to light as uears pass if I was a devoted carinmg Mother, who has so much love tyo share that I'll sit and cry and someone I don't huring, still lost and struiggling to find the path, oh if I could just take their hand and gide that to my plavement here and know, but mortals seem doomed at times, the world gouing topsy turvey, when the solition is simply to believe in the pilses of the eath, the moon, life givinf sun, the quiet and calmness of the dark. My hands are really shaki tonight, I keep losing control of my hands, but I wanted to let you know, the poem is beautiful in it's simplicy.....Keep writing find, and I shall keep rweading, your words as sustaain me, the bealief is so soulful, you write my mind........Love, God Bless....Jo (Mo) always

This Poem was Critiqued By: Wayne R. Leach On Date: 2004-04-21 20:29:14
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.65517
Joanne, I guess we all despise funerals/burials, but this "going away" should be a fine departure, esp. with that music and all the careful planning and instructions. Cannot suggest any changes for this one though. Now I'm depressed because this would signify you are leaving us. I'd hate to see that. I know we all go sooner or later, but .... I'm at a loss for more words right now. Happiness and peace - in that order. Wayne

This Poem was Critiqued By: Thomas Edward Wright On Date: 2004-04-21 19:29:54
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.29825
Perfect. Lay me next to her. Downhill. Downwind. tom

This Poem was Critiqued By: Tiffany A. Christian On Date: 2004-04-21 19:02:51
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 8.16667
ditto! LOL

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