Funerals can truly be augmented by a poem that is apt and fitting for the person you have just lost. The following list of funeral poems about juggling are perfect for those who kept several balls in the air at one time.
I Juggle As I Go
by Mark Gregory
I am a juggler, and I juggle as I go,
Flung from hand to hand, these balls of life and woe;
I catch them as they fall and fling them to the sky,
And catch them as they come back down, and so I juggle by.
I juggle through the hours, and make them all my own,
Through morn and eve and noon, I set a juggling tone,
I catch them as they fall and fling them to the sky,
And catch them as they come back down, and so I juggle by.
I juggle through the years, and watch them come and go,
With all their hopes and fears, their joys and tears and woe,
I catch them as they fall and fling them to the sky,
And catch them as they come back down, and so I juggle by.
I laugh and sing and jest to all, but never let them know,
How hard I am at work, and how fast the moments go,
I catch them as they fall and fling them to the sky,
And catch them as they come back down, and so I juggle by.
I juggle for my friends, and keep them all aglow,
With love and trust and faith that nothing can o’erthrow,
I catch them as they fall and fling them to the sky,
And catch them as they come back down, and so I juggle by.
I laugh and sing and jest to all, but never let them know,
How hard I am at work, and just how fast the moments go,
I catch them as they fall and fling them to the sky,
And catch them as they come back down, and so I juggle by.
I am a juggler, and I juggle as I go,
Flung from hand to hand, these balls of life and woe;
I catch them as they fall and fling them to the sky,
And catch them as they come back down, and so I juggle by.
The Juggler
by Richard Wilbur
A ball will bounce; but less and less. It’s not
A light-hearted thing, resents its own resilience.
Falling is what it loves, and the earth falls
So in our hearts from brilliance,
Settles and is forgot.
It takes a sky-blue juggler with five red balls
To shake our gravity up. Whee, in the air
The balls roll around, wheel on his wheeling hands,
Learning the ways of lightness, alter to spheres
Grazing his finger ends,
Cling to their courses there,
Swinging a small heaven about his ears.
But a heaven is easier made of nothing at all
Than the earth regained, and still and sole within
The spin of worlds, with a gesture sure and noble
He reels that heaven in,
Landing it ball by ball,
And trades it all for a broom, a plate, a table.
Oh, on his toe the table is turning, the broom’s
Balancing up on his nose, and the plate whirls
On the tip of the broom! Damn, what a show, we cry:
The boys stamp, and the girls
Shriek, and the drum booms
And all come down, and he bows and says good-bye.
If the juggler is tired now, if the broom stands
In the dust again, if the table starts to drop
Through the daily dark again, and though the plate
Lies flat on the table top,
For him we batter our hands
Who has won for once over the world’s weight.
To access our full list of funeral poems, click here.
All poems featured on this website are free to use during any ceremony, although it is good practice to make sure the author is mentioned, if known. Should you require a celebrant for your ceremony, be it a funeral, a wedding, a naming ceremony or something else, feel free to get in touch. I am a double award-nominated Family and Funeral Celebrant covering the entire UK, and would be happy to help you commemorate in a meaningful and personal way.
