The funeral poem website was first established in the hope that one of Michael Ashby's modern funeral poems would resonate with, and help, someone, somewhere, at the saddest of times.
This website has grown to include famous funeral poems, and has now touched hundreds of thousands of lives in 172 countries around the globe.
Michael is fortunate to live in South West England on the spectacular Devon coastline. Some nights he is awoken by the sounds of an argument between the sea and the local pebble beach coming in through his bedroom window. He's not sure who starts it, but they always settle in the end.
He spends part of each day gazing out to sea, waiting for his next poem to appear on the horizon.
Other poems by Michael Ashby can be found on his new page Michael Ashby Poems on Facebook .
His flagship poem "Salcombe's Estuary Orchestra" is permanently moored by heartstrings twixt Salcombe and East Portlemouth's golden 'low tide' beaches.
SALCOMBE'S ESTUARY ORCHESTRA
Seabirds dance to Neptune's beat and
Like moths around a flame
Welcome home the fishing fleet
Back safe from the catching game
In and out, to and fro
Rise and fall, high and low
Flood tide, ebb tide, spring tide and neap tide
Riverside, seaside, creek side and boat side
All dance to the waters' refrain
As cormorants line up to conduct
And the estuary orchestra plays again
Ferries crossing, visitors jostling
Lights blinking, prawns winking
Sails bracing, dinghies racing
Bobcats leaping, seadogs sleeping
Boatmen waving, lifeboat saving
Finally, the conductors dry
Immodestly on a prow
And as the sun turns off the rain
The estuary orchestra takes a bow
Before playing a tidal encore
Over and over and over again
Secured alongside by an invisible, unbreakable bond is...
Supping my cool aqua mineral, stirred
I repose against the bar and await
An Asian creature, singularly furred
Just ten minutes late for our first blind date
Pheremones give my position away
To the new Queen moving onto the board
As the game of love engenders foreplay
Before I, the King, must fall on my sword
Obsidian eyes dance in virgin snow
Slowly melting my inscrutable heart
An earthquake tremor marks a first hello
While a formal bow masks a shaky start
I recommend a Chinese takeaway
And she concurs with my favourite dish
Fresh bamboo shoots arrive with little delay
Topped off with honey and fresh local fish
A small giant panda is due within
Wolong, whose outlook is colourful now
That I have wooed, and won, my Queen Yin Yin
And she's checked, and mated, her King Yang Tao
Floating past daily on the tide of life is a gnarled Viking longboat - sinking lower in the water each year - with these words etched forever below the worn figurehead...
OLD AGE ISN'T FOR WIMPS
It's a lonely fight
In the middle of the night
With the temperature falling
And old pains calling
Pains in the body
Pains in the soul
Old age sometimes
Can be a living hell