Unmarked grave
Epigraph reads slave
Not even dignified with a name
Just a ghost of a boy surrounded
By tombs of those known
Tombs of those never alone
In a cemetery full of strangers
Even in death he is separated from his family
Who was he?
The world may never know
His body buried just like his story unknown
He was born into shackles
And died in them
He never got to taste the sweetness of freedom
Even in death, even in the afterlife
He will always be known
Through only his skin colour
We will never fully know will we?
across the festival of grasses
I ran through the view of various booth and attraction
run by locals and those aged faction
along those sneaky foreigners with imprinted aliases
rolling my bike seemed to bother
with their necks closing in
leaning towards my upward chin
read as arrogance, instead as an evader
invader of their land
shattering their drinking glass
yet still manage to outclass humans
by using what's left of their decaying hand
it's pretty in my mind
thinking—I'll just pay a visit
not knowing my limit
until I arrived.
I travelled hours, hours and hours.
The rusty ornate gate groaned,
a path hued green moaned to me,
as the trees whispered and wept.
Then, I stood at that cold grave,
of my loved ones deep engraved.
After . . . I let my grief weep !
Get too close and i tend to push away
Come real close and ill be prayin that you stay
ion fk with these hos
from them i breakaway
my phone look like a funeral
all these dead bod-ays
contact name the tombstone
revisit text like a grave
walk thru the cemetery alone
wish some of them stayed
where they are is unknown
some of them betrayed
while i was on mars no bruno
drift away with space
Me,Myself and uno
you wasn't the one for may
switch and change like seasons go
like the moon just a phase
romance filled with chemicals
in my heart you were laced
at a point intangible
now its toxic waste
view em all as expendable
few i loved their taste
some like a cannibal
its you that i crave...
Your Remembrance
A time, just a time, lived to you in his heart, passed age, this love
Age, nothing remained, an empty marble tablet in a cemetery park
Your path walk is late, didn’t you see? Worn, unreadable letters
On the stone, all the noble sentences were addressed to you, only
But, but someone is waiting for you. In the cemetery, still alone
Here is a stone, not a gravestone or a memorial stone. Just a stone
Invisible this past, hidden by ivy, a protective and friendly friend, love
Ivy, oh Ivy, I feel good under your anxious care, keep me here! Love
Love, past and missed desire. Oh, where is that time? The youth
The youth. The age of youngness. Age of burning love. Dead. Ours
Meeting with the love that kills nature. The human one. Killed love you
Love destroyed, a destroyed loved you. The stone. Radiating to you
Just a black tulip, please. And a whisky
Erma, I don’t need anything
Look at the faded portrait on my flat stone
Pure me with a bottle of whiskey. Famous Grouse
Drop down
A black tulip
Someone loved you
Leave him
Good
The Gates of Hades
today I visited your Grave my love
I wasn’t sure if you noticed
this cemetery is in a Godforsaken place
the knobby old weeping willows
lend a Ghostly tenor to the site
the wind blowing through the trees
makes a Groaning sound or
perhaps it is just my imagination
I am still Grief-stricken since
that time ten years ago when
your soul was taken from me
and lifted to heaven on Gossamer wings
I shall never forget you until
my time comes
There’s an old, abandoned pet cemetery hidden near the woods
At the end of desolate dirt road far away from neighborhoods
It’s rumored to have a haunted grave, where apparitions appear at night
Among the many old ghostly statues that during the day is a peaceful sight
Eerie cries at night and groaning sounds are rumored to be heard
Many believe it’s spirits of pet’s grief-stricken owners being stirred
On nights with a full moon, gossamer glows on stones under the moonlight
As sounds of barking, crying and meowing can evoke feelings of fright
There’s a beautiful old worn rod iron gate that surrounds the cemetery grounds
It’s kept locked and weeds have grown up over it as it remains closedown
Many see it as a godforsaken haunted and now forgotten lonely place
With painful memories of departed pets that cast an eerie light on the space
At night the gate is guarded with dog spirits of a Doberman and a Greyhound
And many have tried to capture the spirits on camera, but never to be found
Calmness bids me as grief strives to cease
Enabling sincere thanksgiving-prevalence
Midst gloom, hiding serenely still while
Exemplifying grace under pressure... yet
Tears cannot anymore control their fall
Exposing prayer of my heart for closure
Recognizing heaven's victory over death* since
Yon the grave is eternal bliss with the Source of life.
*1 Corinthians 15:55-57 O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.
May 29, 2025
3rd place, "Cemetery" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France; judged on 6/2/2025
A field where the departed rest,
Some have toiled on this earth and given their best.
We bring flowers as we mourn for those we've lost,
Grieving deeply, our hearts feel its cost.
A field where silence drowns the noise of the day,
The soul has passed through the last door, answering the call to obey.
There’s a gentle ease as night begins to unfold,
Where the complexities of daylight no longer take hold.
A field that tells a story,
It reminds us of our fleeting glory.
We learn to cherish every passing hour,
For soon, moments fade like a withering flower.
A field where the lost and the cherished are laid,
Their beauty may fade, but their spirits won’t evade.
A field for the young and for those who are old,
A field for the lost, the brave, and the treasures untold.
“The cold stones of cemetery inscribe
in emptiness the petrified story long forgotten”
– By Poet
The grey sky was gloomy
as that of my morose mind,
as I pushed open the rusted gate,
entered the sprawling cemetery.
I stood still in front of the grey stones
in rows, some large, some small,
in columns, some erect, some reclined,
each silently telling me a story forgotten.
I prayed for eternal peace for the souls gone,
for the lives petrified in the emptiness.
I stood in a vacant plot waiting,
wished someone would pray for me someday.
"Some believe they must earn a life in heaven.unaware heaven is already their home" ~ CayCay
Human life is striving for joy while saturated with busy
bits of an emotional seesaw, its movements leave traces
in so many places, our goal seems pre-disabled. So, it
is that despite emotional throes we seek fulfillment over
and over.
As God's own designed, divine-honed souls, we are
light sourced as formed in His realm. Reincarnation is the
tutorial for achieving the brightest possible spiritual light.
To earth we are sent countless times, exposed to endless
human themed rhymes. We die, into heaven we slide,
advanced souls review and guide us through all we failed
to discern, all we taught - be it good or an influence
incongruent with who we really are. A karma is decided and
once again a soul is flesh ignited. Once a soul has met all
goals, the most radiant color is bestowed; the color of
euphoric radiance star-shining for eternity.
born human on earth
to spirit world all return ~~
man visits tombstones
“Death is the last chapter in time, but the first chapter in eternity.” – Author unknown
Life
Lived, now-
departed.
Souls gathered at -
cemetery graves.
Spirits now free,
and at peace.
To rest.
Death
The family plot’s on cold pavement and hidden in grass,
but warm with familial heartbeats. Otherwise, the dead
become spectrals, fearsome at midnight.
—by poet
Cemetery Thoughts, Some Grave
Not dark and scary, slightly sunlit.
walked the pavement, not
like the unknown’s sentry,
but still deliberately,
in this quiet almost public space,
a location hidden from me,
though I stood right where I am
now - over Grandpa’s coffin.
Never thought of the placement,
why? We lived out of town.
My mom’s parents, too, reside
with my uncle, twenty-five -
who else? Great-grands, but to see
them, that is their stones, I had
to walk on grasslands and search.
Photos taken, for dates, for notes.
A former cemetery, so scary.
Us four highschoolers drove in.
It was a Winter’s midnight and snow
fell. Normal. Until we left and found -
it was snowing only on the hallowed grounds.
"Parting is such sweet sorrow that I shall say goodnight till it be morrow. " ~ Shakespeare
As fragments of the stars abandoned
the sage of night, my kohl heart bleeds
beside your trembling tombstone,
while soul aches to seize the
fading scents within
the iris of
auroras,
leaving
dreams
and
I, lost
like the speed
of shooting sparks,
twirling above ghosts
in the cemetery
of wild corpse roses, whistling
moonless requiems to ravens
blind to the truth etched in lithium...
Somehow, the deluge of cloudburst
unwraps my flesh pallid, as if to spill
holy water--maybe thickened dew—just
to give a name to lapses of my unheard cries,
while an insolent breeze fails to listen
as I howl in utter despair of life's requiem:
The thistle of wet soil chains my feet
anchored unto the swell of memories' bend;
remaining distant in an unknown,
vacant cemetery nourishing a loneliness
only vagrants like me could bear:
A scream of rain compels a thirst
to feed on abrasions of ghastly pang...alone,
isolated from new moonlight's lodging
my solitude, my invisible frame starts to sigh
behind the roughest of rain's marbled stone---
How can fresh mornings be so darn bleak?
Related Poems