Cemetery

Venue for brooding over Death’s mischief While equipped with handkerchief… Tears misty eyes shall unlock Already by heavy heart unbolted Over Death’s wasting clock And angering daring of the Lord’s Promoted! A masonry of slabs and The marbled For impassioned messages, not garbled, On her tombstones displaying Christ’s cross That should curb the cries over a loss But also Gardens of Angelic Roses That the Door of Agony intermittently closes. In Africa, far from the widespread And in her folktales rarely read. In The Western World, vastly stationed And in her novels as much mentioned. Dreary noises vomits in the wee hours Which ears at close range seldom misheard: A wondrous assertion of eerie powers And Whistled Evil by Ghostly Bird. A world scarier and insecure at midnights, As the Dead socialize and commercialize, No longer under pressure to tighten their lips; Their life- terminating fights have for the withdrawn lights And hapless visiting humans paralyze With their deadening whips. Cemetery continues to entertain bones From tents and thrones.