Grave Introspection Poems

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Details | Free verse |
Between the granite stones
Of the dead
Long ago last breaths do part
Memories seeping in dirt
Black birds and magpies
Lace and knots
Lingering thoughts
Swaying too and fro

On top of the dead
Lover is all but gone
Butterflies shown
That life flies on
As shadows rest
Upon ones breast

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

Details | Dramatic Verse |

A lattice of vines covers this resting place
Some headstones fallen, lying in the grass, 
That I drift back into hedges of   t i m e, 
Where markers seem to hum life’s stories. 
This quiet glade, an archive on a ridge, 
keeps secrets untold where stones are marked~ 
As a cloak of vines protects all those gone by
remembered   not    by any living heart.
I wonder if those reposed could share their tales
Before crumbling away as nameless dust;
Their sorrowful mysteries so hidden
Entwined now,   with the vines’ languishing blooms.
To leave this place ~  where silent souls abide
Is to be aware of my unknown days,
For when, in dimming light, inscriptions crack
Will I be forgotten,    like these old headstones?

Overgrown With Vines Contest
Sponsor: Broken Wings   10/3/2016 

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2016

Details | Double Dactyl |
Bryant’s Necropolis Conceit
Silent halls of death so cometh
William Cullen Bryant
Thanatopsis supremeus now
A sepulchre awaits us all.

Dour darkness and shroud forever
The spirit world so beckons us
We all shall so wither and fall.

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, 
(January 15, 2015) (Double Dactyl)

Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
Through Their Eyes

The Poetry Murders Part 3 in the series

Murder She Wrote

It was a dark night with a full moon
The alley narrow, my hopes high
My footsteps echoed in the ears of the invisible
I quicken my pace
I had an eerie feeling, fate waiting
At the next gate
I rounded the corner
Mist from the sewer drifting
The ambient mood that of sinister
Is that the wind I hear?
Before I could gaze up
A thousand heavy books
Rained down upon me head
I was struck dead
Surrounded by books and words
A hundred yards away
Behind the walls of the church graveyard
There was laughter in the night
Murder she wrote
The final perfect one
As I lay dead
On the street of forgotten poets

Through Their Eyes part 2
Sleeping Beauty

She gazed into my haunted eyes
Knowing my devotion was absolute and complete
She fulfilled my nefarious dreams
Ever so peaceful in her green eyed slumber
She struggled with the rope and tape
I whispered in her ear
Relax, your destiny is clear
You shall sail to the sweetest of places
I shall allow you your escape
Slowly, smothered with my pillowed love
She lies lifeless
In peace
With my poems upon her chest
She has found paradise at last
As the light fades from the far away sea
Old roads become watery graves
North she sails with my words upon her very soul

Through Their Eyes  part 1

The Poetry Murders

She is hiding
I know it
She knows it
She’s next
The vast expanse of Ontarian forest
Is no protection at all
I am the butcher of all slithering poets
After all they slaughtered the words
Fair is bloodthirsty fair!

Everyone suspects the butler
Or maybe the Gardner
All the usual suspects
No one guesses the millionaire
Money isn’t everything you know
Murder is the thing keeps me on the go

Florida was pleasant trip
A lot of writers around the lakes
A lot of poets down there are really fakes
I’ll be serving tacos on sticks
Nothing like having strangers eat the evidence
The alligators will get the scraps
I wrapped them up in such poems of utter crap

I so loved the Bible belt
They are seekers of redemption and find only fools
Now there is a writer with a huge welt
The axe you see split his head in three
Breathless he sleeps like the holy trinity
Rotting away, the same stink was there
As In life his rotten disposition
Filled ones nostrils the same as deaths kitchen

Now I fancy a trip back in time
Way way back, way back were I hear roman chimes
Caesars second is chasing killers
I shall turn the tables of destiny and time
Slitting his throat a thousand times
Brutus was a pussy cat compared to me!
I drinkith the cup of blood, I am thirsty as can be

Oh this spree has just begun
Killing poets is just so much fun
They can hide behind their masks
Shivering in silence I stalk their fear
Tickling their soulless spines
I have a gift wrapped in blood
Let me make you divine
I pronounce you Silent One till the end of time
Headless you sit in your chair
Hideous and hiding
In death you shall have more class and flair

Cyanide is slow and fun
You see them shrivel, blank stares
Death dancing all over their hairs
Your next drink, I do say beware
It flows with poetic dreams
Taking you away from this earth
The sad news is this
You will not be going upstairs!

Agatha Christie could not spell
The fact of the matter some do dwell
If she was alive to see me now
I’d be facing the garrote for murdering her cow
Alas she is gone, dead and buried
I smirk; they never caught me for her or the cow

Now if you think I am a psychotic nut
For murdering poets, hey I was in a rut
They all deserved their painful butchered demise
Even they have locked me up
Not for murder, I was really too good at that
They think I am mental and hey lets play along
I have one last murder you see, so delicious
This crime soon to be
I ate my ear to be locked up here
Inside of the institute called J Ward

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |
How queer the color of viscera
squarely foreign in my breast
To be the butcher and grim and goddess
All in one
Leaves identity succinct
Or identifies succinctness
If it has been
Then so it was always before

Therein is 'Peace'
Reposed and eyes rolling
Great, vacant saucers on vertiginous axis
She is quite the swollen beast
And on all fronts, she is terrible
If only you'll watch you may notice her growth
A malignant sort
An unwelcome appendage
I'd dash it out but I've already gone
Too pale and dogged in life to succumb
I curse her tenacity

She has a sister, I think
Or maybe a child
A child who lives down deep in my chest
A child who shrieks and tears down the walls
Perhaps she dislikes their pattern

Copyright © Chelsea Westerfield | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
I						am
I						was
I						saw an
I						 lay
I						pray	
I						sleep

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |
My sad, deplorable glory is a nightmare for another This knowing is sickening to the bone The need for anothers' pain is like a virus Slitting the veins of truth and delirious want of false Watching the bile flow through I emptied a full, sorrowful glass for you Without even a moment’s glance Your parched lips opened to drink But like poison the sustainable exhalation surrounded your body I shrank at the shrieks of your disquietude Not knowing what to do Expression died with the loss of flow I couldn’t flourish in the bleak winters of your loss I couldn’t grow All happiness in a flash of susceptibility Turned to woe I gave into thinking it was all an unworthy dream But the answers, the symbolism was never clear The loss of your very soul is what I fear I never meant to poison you in what I take as nourishment And here now you rot At the expense of these sad, empty tunes They must mean close to nothing to you Pain Pain Why do I revolve around the pain? The empty glass of your spirits remains stained With the insides of all things true Torn away Smothered in a ghostly, ghastly gore I couldn’t see you could not take it The sorrow I meant to erase to fake it But instead make it The reason I live is to sing for you To disintegrate the swelling blue But instead I crawled into your only space Leaving only disgrace The gore splattering in jewels across your face I’ll tell you what All my achievements are naught They are only fakes I am nothing without God’s grace I spurt with illegitimate words and tunes That you can never face! As if by the heaven I inspired I am drunken with your bile Of pride risen above the mile What is this sadness— This anger, this madness? Show me what to do Show me what to say I’ll dispose of all vagaries I dared to feel today And replace it with pain Replace it with pain Discordance from another is my nightmare smothered And this the majority crave The need—the desire for acknowledgement We will take it to the grave I never wanted heartless fame A poison in a cup I never wanted anything Only to fill you up I poured the glass and there it came Just sad, tired air Nothing left to give you Not even the sentiment of a stare The truth is I am scared The truth is I am scared I guess, at times we are all. . . Not there 7/13/13

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
This smell penetrates my senses;
My belongings in hand, I will wait
for the grey faced man to take me.
Solemnly walking into it;
my belongings are in plain sight.
I will wait
for the grey faced man to take me.

In this stale room;
dreary eyes proceed.
Bleak God please, not this soon,
I look through the crack
and wish to believe
that he not humiliate me.
Will he not take me?
Will he not imprison me?

Alas, he has come;
I see him through the crack.

Is my face not red with embarrassment?
Am I not ashamed?
Am I true in this guilt?

Alas, he has come;
I see him through the crack.

Will he not humiliate me?
Will he not take me?
Will he not imprison me?

He takes me now
with all too much force.
Bleak God please, not this soon.
Looking through concrete
my essence is guilt.
Solemnly walking into it;
I have ended my successes,
I will wait,
for the grey faced man now takes me.

Bleak God! I deserve all of this!
My face is red with embarrassment.
Alas, the grey faced man takes me.

Copyright © Adam Lefaivre | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku |

                  Indomitable ,
            Intrusions into nature,

          Mushroom clouds high up!

Haiku- 5/7/5
Written on 27/7/14
Contest- one solo Epic senryu or haiku- in the clouds
Sponsor- PD A

Ranked 8th

Copyright © Dr. Upma A. Sharma | Year Posted 2014

Details | Didactic |
a lifetime remembered
unknown from the start
now and then cherished
though this flesh depart

a journey of memories
authored by mine heart
its legacy yet forgotten
never readied to impart

a wordy journal written
confirmed a work of art
every page an imaginary
private mystery set apart

a musing inner expression
of my soul’s broken heart
true thoughtful revelations
seeking a promising restart

a spiritual odyssey beyond
observation without a chart
life’s final draft re-written
along a path a world apart

a hapless persona’s escape
into a realm of abstract art
bound on a freedom quest
till unto dust shall I depart

© Eugene Harvey

Copyright © Eugene Harvey | Year Posted 2016

Details | I do not know? |
 We can not control the actions of other people
But we can control how we react 
We can show restraint and dignity
By keeping ourselves intact

People will show you their true stripes
And will continue to play their games
All the while saying they are different
When in fact they have never changed

When you have the mentality of a child
And you have to pretend to be a man
While digging busy digging your own grave
You don’t see others have their game plan

Another piece of evidence added 
To a mountainous file already miles high
So enjoy your fun, you slithering snake
When they come knocking on your door with a protective order, I can’t wait to hear 
you cry 

Copyright © I Dream In Poetry | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |

The solemn air of deepened peace 
Peace beneath grass where you had lain,
Lain along angels' sacred field
Field upon which dreams were embalmed.

Contest of nette onclaud: Four Lines Only
Visual 3
Carly Lalion: 7th June, 2015

Copyright © Carly Lalion | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
Eight hours of toiling in the sun
With pick and axe digging for rum
Captive to the sentence yet
Prisoner to none

Hard labour, and this sure ain’t fun
Sweating in the heat, shoveling the dun
Digging and digging this work never done
Callused hands and a back carrying tons

The sun is setting, yet escape seems far
After all the digging is the gravel and tar
I am dead, dead dead!
Dead tired and wish I was in bed

So fair warning I am leaving here soon
Leaving this torture, to sing another tune
Leaving, I am to fetch me some brew
Some Tim Horton’s coffee and maybe some stew


ummmm a coffee shop, lets see what trouble I can get into there!!!!! :)

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2017

Details | I do not know? |
Armageddon wold be an amazing boon
to accompany ourselves amidst others in rubble strewn cocoon 
or perchance an arid extra dry spell blows humungous dune
donning any brave soul to weather 
   fierce-some dust bowl appearing like a ghoulish goon
vis a vis via global sand man disallowing any inhabitant 2b immune
whereat autumnal days will mimic those analogous to tropical June
day where nary a species of flora nor fauna, 
   which latter muffled cry viz Claire de lune
barely heard above the blindingly pitched 
   (scoring major lunar home run) when earth's moon
appeared to be batted, snatched, and whacked - 
   piñata like casting darkness at high noon
this out of other worldly debacle 
   (viz: a scene of apocalyptic, cosmic and epic rune
from twilight zone re: outer limits offsetting 
   sole millennial Gaia satellite believed rigged forever) - 
   which end of planetary status quo came soon
er than expected, accompanied by Gustav Holst eponymous tune
once Luna rung seismically, titanic ally uprooted, violently wrenched 
   prior to crash landing at ground zero rocked and rolled out of orbitz 
   before careering, and screaming thru the atmosphere
   analogous to a near full term baby in utero yanked out of womb.

though the above dynamic gigantic jack-knifed 
   nihilistic quantum spectacular universal wreckage
sans the inner sphere of solar system 
   (known to mankind, when said creature, an outlier)
   whence even amidst the early 
   bipedal hominids that throve a sage
no event (whether natural or caused by human error), 
   would compare neither cap cha, when are bit rage
emasculated, and wrought onto the terrestrial firmament 
   no way to measure nor gauge
the depth, length, and scope of total and 
   absolute value eradicating any trace of simian equipage
reducing the arrogant, conceited, ego-maniacal, dotage
boot far-fetched science fiction phenomena would
   witness civilization captive in their own technological cage!

Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2016

Details | Couplet |
Newborn soul of wind and sky
Angels tread softly upon this place

Eyes of elemental flame
Glowing passion, simmering grace

Feral child of natures plan
Innocence of this earthly place

Learning now the ways of man
His sins to be embraced

Realm of man exacts its toll
A life spent bereft of care

Cynics heart, unfeeling hands
Vacant eyes and deadened stare

Beliefs embraced, preached as truth
Corrupted chants of prayer

Spread the lies of immortality
The guff no souls to spare

Fire to embers, flames to ash
Life's goals begin to fail

Within himself he lives and breathes
Good intentions he derails

Final breaths he draws in pain
Memories start to pale

A world now dims in retrospect
As he steps beyond the veil


Copyright © Stephen Allen | Year Posted 2012

Details | Blank verse |
On the road of the death

On the road of the death
Flow of that preserved cycle
Sleeps in the sunny day
Feeling need to take rest for today

Establishment of energy and power
Coincides meeting in conference
Invention and discovery of real elements
Leans towards table's face
Moment of silent kicks 
Through the glasses of the vulture eyes
There is need of findings then
Pertaining in the mixture of science

Aim and achievement jumps towards
Velocity while takes nap 
In the beauty of retired and lone
Success awakes in the mid of clap

On the road of the death 
All turn into grey and white
Matter fatter everything cool
Cooking silent in oven race

A song in the wind was whirling
Solidifying shi: shi: with trees and cloud
Far in the west gimmicks of hopes
Dipping down coloring red

On the road of the death
Cries of the black holes lamented
No one can guess 
Power of the bigger's test.

Copyright © Deepak Chalise | Year Posted 2016

Details | Grook |
The ghost of future past                                                                                                                                                                     lines chiseled upon his face                                                                                                                                                   at least they spelled my name right

Copyright © John Beam | Year Posted 2017

Details | Epitaph |
Sweat mingels with my tears,
as thunder reverberates above.
Angels with calginous garments,
stand in obscure doorways;
as lightning punctuates the empyrean.
Looking towards the future,
I can only envision the past.
So once again I plant flowers 
at my brother's grave.
But who are these flowers really for?
The person long since deceased,
or the ones who remained behind?

Copyright © Sheol Moribund | Year Posted 2009

Details | Sonnet |
         THE RESTING
The death of soul steals slowly through the years
the fog of mind that's never known to be;
brought on by laughter, love, and hate and tears
the fate of all not one can ever see.

It brings the withering of life, and all its leaves,
once green and shining in the morning sun,
now setting on it all, in evening grieves
for lack of interest in what life has done.

Compassion leaves the mind, once fired and prime
and old and tired now beats the heart we knew
life now mundaned by passing of all time,
there's little left the heart would like to do.

    Our works are numbered to our final breath
      and rest is not until it's done in death.
© ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa the doylestown poet

Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |
The water, it takes me off of my chosen path
A place from where many men have never come back
The water, it’s rising now and I must not think twice
To leave what is material to save my own life
I cling to the vessel, which brought me here, tightly
To save what is left of myself and my psyche
My grip it does weaken as reality sets in
This might be the last time on Earth that I spend
All that has happened, or would have contrarily
Will be no longer if this fate it does bury me
Shortness of breath as the water creeps in
Debris hits my body, and hastens my end
Holding on to life with the strength that remains
Finding new ways to experience pain
I look to the past and I think of the future
The present is my captor, my love, my abuser
These moments are fleeting yet they are all that do matter
My mind it is tired, and my body it is tattered 
I choose to let go and let the current decide
Whether I will live or whether I will die
I go towards my savior, the unmoving earth
To rest on the bosom that’s given me birth
The water does release me as I lie there ashore
To find that my former, is no longer, no more
Perspective is golden as it comes by so seldom
When people do ask, that is what I do tell them
Life cannot be loved until death is so certain
As an act can not be appreciated until after the curtain
To live like you’re dying is more than a suggestion
To do anything other is to deny, without question
Our fate is decided the moment that we are born
We decide how we reach it and how others will mourn
Take nothing for granted and appreciate time given
It’s not how much you have, it’s how you choose to spend it

Copyright © James Holliday | Year Posted 2014

Details | I do not know? |
Have I lived so long in Eden’s grave
and never felt the ocean's wave
or touched the silken butterfly
who dances for the children’s eye

Colors more than sight allows
have I embraced those burning clouds
ending days in appetite
for stars in heaven's pride of night

did I live so long and never taste
snow - so shyly kissing the face
aimless, white melodies
clothes for barren naked trees

do I listen what the rivers say
they’re wisdom of a thousand days
winding from a mountains height
against the stone's endless fight

A scissor tail,  robin's nest
did I hear the song so curious
Have I lived at all - have I lived a day
Have I lived so long in Eden’s grave

Copyright © Ezra Vancil | Year Posted 2005

Details | Elegy |
Struggling to put face and name together
You passed so long ago it is difficult to recall
Those bright hazel eyes that sparked of life
Dirty blonde hair as it shone in the daylight
Gone in the autumn you fell with the leaves
But you won’t return with the natal of spring
They regret and apologize for wars long over
Now old and crippled time cannot return to me
I have wept at your loss and done nothing
To repay the heavy burdened debt I carry
You were someone’s son and lover
Felled by my eye and bullet.

Copyright © Charles Fuller | Year Posted 2007

Details | Ballad |
A child is dead in the heart of men
a lonely grave sits unattended
who do such a thing I heard them say
to someone they had once befriended
who would have the child abandoned
i look to the gates and the fences unmended
i seek all these answers when i kneel to pray
but what's left to say
despite meaningful words I still dismay
this lonesome grave sees no flowers tended
when the baleful moon rises another day ended
but this grave is still unvisited
sadness and shame to this day
when all good men did nothing but pray
god should have stayed
but remorse is lost on those not here
i speak of course of men ruled by fear
for there is not just one grave unattended
there is more than one sin unmended
down beside this tomb i solemnly lay
when moon rests high and out goes day
this child called integrity is dead
doubt and vanity has taken its stead
this child called Right has been felled by Wrong
this grave is unseen and unknown
i lay here too, because the guilt is also my own
this grave at the hearts of all good men
what once we had we will never have again

Copyright © John Allen | Year Posted 2006

Details | Prose Poetry |
I built a velvet covered pedestal 
I stood in an ornate frame
I drew a gold crown upon my head
I didn't measure the pedestal
I forgot the frame was fixed in place
I couldn't feel the weight of the crown

Copyright © Caroline Beyer | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |
A bird flew to my Window.
She was light and exquisite on her sill side perch.
She sang of her nest
in a tree.
I went to the tree
whose bark was scarred and thick on old plant flesh.
the Green Tree told me
"these are my roots, 
that sit in this soil"
So i dug a grave.
Deep and dark and narrow through earth.
And my grave told me
"this is your soul,
with its wreath of stars"
The starlight shone,
sober, with weightless import.
The stars showed me
a Mirror.
In darkness we sit,
we sit as one.
One breath,
with naught to be told.

Copyright © mike lay | Year Posted 2008

Details | Free verse |
is in-tuition , tuition paid in the school of life ?
....there is no out-tuition , unless you're sick
and become an out-patient....or  , is that being
impatient ?.......who knows , sonic's or should I say
phonic's , whatever I mean , or need , or sayed...
hooked on sonic's is almost light speed.......

whenever we're confronted with grave decisions ,
sometime's we don't understand....
the gravity of the situation , but , what is gravity ?
but a force that anchors us to the earth.....
how grave is that outlook ?

at one moment......our moment......
began as spermatozoon swimming to an egg ,
do you think now , our swim , 
is to swim the celestial sea ????

so what is the gravity of our situation ?
what is the meaning to our true question ?
true questing , still testing........
is that quest-ion , spontaneous combustion ?

with real-eyes ,we should realize.....
our true purpose , is our souls quest.........

Copyright © jay del fierro | Year Posted 2007

Details | Rhyme |
This self exists in grave fluidity – 
when finding nothing inside, ventures out
and looks beyond to seek validity.

Unfortunate, she finds herself without
the thing she needs to valuate a life;
when finding nothing inside, ventures out

to leave some beauty there among the strife – 
for only in creation she finds peace,
the thing she needs to valuate a life.

Objectified, the pain can find release
obscured within intense poetic phrase,
for only in creation she finds peace.

So tucked away within, it silent stays
and destined to remain so when it hides
obscured within intense poetic phrase,

and in this way, the future she decides.
This self exists in grave fluidity – 
and destined to remain so when it hides
and looks beyond to seek validity.

Copyright © Tracy Decker | Year Posted 2006

Details | Free verse |
the darkness and confusion lifts
I do not bring the rain, which you embrace
but the sun briefly, into a cold sky
as I feel my way through the fog
into the realms of your reality
I lay fantasy aside
covering it with Irish lace
and burying it in a shallow grave
as your heart's freedom sprouts wings
and flies away into the night

Copyright © Jo Bien | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |
Fill these
Shoes with gold and
Ruled the world
Fill these
Shoes with souls and 
Walk to your grave

Copyright © Gregory Golden | Year Posted 2008