Mocking the Dead
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September- 23.2023
Mocking the Dead Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Silent One
~Placed First~
Here I stand before hundreds of moss grown graves
There is a mournful silence that extends
Through the weed grown path, no traveller walks
The place, some morbid warning portends
Hush.... hush is this place, here no bird sings
The wind here sighs in silent pain
There is a muffled horror all around the place
Even the leaves chant a sad refrain
Here, Death sits on his imperial throne
Mocking at the relics of human glory
Zealous with the task of deleting the old
To script a new chapter, a new story
In these ancient graves sleep the silent dead
Their toil and trouble ended with life
They must have been perhaps heroes of the land
No more are they part of world’s victory or strife
Nor its sad commemorations or triumphant jubilees
Though released from the shackles of oppression
Each dear presence has now become an absence
Here they lie anonymous, without a single possession
Did they perish in a battle or struck by some pestilence
However, their names are blotted out from life’s tome
They are knocked down and mocked by time
And they lie here uncared, expelled from their home.
Generations pass and their progeny comes
Unmindful of who lived before them
Neither thankful of the legacy left behind
Nor thinking that all comforts, from their toil stem
Vacancy alone greets my pensive eyes
Each life here is a volume shut down,
To be cast aside and eventually forgotten,
Or erased forever with no name or renown
With a heavy heart I stand beside these wrecks
Thinking I too shall lie here, devoid of all opulence
Leaving all my hard-earned possessions behind
With no trace, mocked by time and forgotten by the populace
Copyright © Valsa George | Year Posted 2023
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