Beloved, lovely roses: gift of God and lover’s flower,
Spread your colored petals and cradle tender showers.
While admiring the blossoms with their beauty to behold,
Ought we not to know the Tender of such lovely garden groves?
For He lovingly and thoughtfully wields His pruning shears
To cut away the stems of old for fuller future years.
He cultivates and feeds them. He attends them as a Father
Looking daily to their needs; so faithfully He waters.
From the dawn of morning dew until the setting sun arrays
Caring always for His own until that great appointed day…
When the Gardener comes to claim each one the earth held as its own.
He gently picks it at its peak and for His pleasure takes it home.
As God did one glorious morning, when the Perfect Rose had bloomed.
He rolled away the stone and met with Mary at the tomb.
There the sweetest Rose of Sharon rose that we die not alone.
But be gathered for a garden grove, surrounding heavens throne.
Copyright © Tom Valles | Year Posted 2013
Alas there is no more confusion,
finally found my last conclusion.
Expect me as if Jesus will return,
from a ghost to a realm of concern.
Your dreams are portals like doors,
welcoming spirits into hasten wars.
Leaving the thoughts without trust,
keeping your fears in much disgust.
And though you sought no consequence,
deeds that confirm a wicked malevolence.
Awaiting in your nightmare of screams,
enjoy what is left amongst your dreams.
Copyright © Eternal Victor | Year Posted 2013
You think you’ve gone just far enough,
I could smile knowing you’ve gone far enough that you can’t go back again
You think you were careful but,
I’ve caught a glimpse of your true, wretched form
You think you can find a way into my good graces
I’ve seen what you are, monsters with a friendly costume
You can’t deceive me anymore and, I don’t consort with serpents
You think I’m a game to be played but, trust me, you could never win
Don’t underestimate me
You think I’m a joke but, trust me you won’t be laughing
You think I’m just talking myself up but, trust me, you’re the ones going down
My eyes took too long to adjust
Better late than never
It may take a monster to know one but, I promise my teeth are sharper than yours
My first reaction to the hideous revelation that was your form was to weep
Fall to my knees, maybe even wretch my heart from my chest and onto the carpet
Then I thought about the mess it would make
I decided the only blood that will spill, will be your own
I was not weak, but I had a weakness
A heart of soft gold stitched to my sleeve with care
Now my heart is a stone so heavy
I could kill at least two birds at once
Being the nice guy is a thing of the past
Thanks for freeing me of that softness
You thought I was all sunshine and delicate things
When really I had just been swallowing razor blades
Now that sun is setting and I hope you see it was you who were wrong
Can you feel my darkness coming, because it’s eager to hold you
If you thought I was the one who would just stand still or turn to run
Your gonna be the one with tired feet
I’m not sad anymore
Just sick with the plague of your lies
Contagious, and I’m looking for someone to kiss
Even angels can make themselves wicked
When we do, we take no prisoners
Still think I’m a game
This one is just beginning
Copyright © Alexander Schwartz | Year Posted 2013
He knew both
How to impress and express
He wanted to surprise her by being different
He wanted to play the same dating game
But he wanted to play it different from other players
Men are never different just their methods are
That he knew better than any
So he asked her out
On a date
Not in a posh restaurant
But in a posh city grave yard
A place she is ever afraid of
So he chose to show her love
In the place that harbors a magnitude of her fear
It was not in day light
It was in the wee hours of evening
When ghosts are rising from the spirit world
They walked together
From grave to grave reading names of the dead
Her fear increased when told her about how each died
And then he told her about the reality of ghosts
Her fears rose
She wanted him to hold her
To protect her
Which he gladly did
Standing on one of the graves
He held her with a romantic twist
And she surrendered
Even her last flesh
was surrendered to him in there
In the grave yard
And she said yes
when he proposed
Copyright © Rodgers Roger | Year Posted 2014
They buried her by the train,
still waiting for her father.
This was written to demonstrate the brevity of the epitaph form, in my critique of Stark Hunter's lovely free verse poem entitled "An Epitaph" which may be found here https://www.poetrysoup.com/poetry/forum/topic5517-an-epitaph.aspx
Copyright © Jack Webster | Year Posted 2017