Best Burial Ground Poems
Once, in a thought, it seemed how everything
stood without color, either black or white
or marbled grey, were sparrows tipped in flight
then pitched to the barn by a bastard wing
as feed for that, that unthinkable thing,
that thing which hunts and haunts confounded night,
and taunts with words, good morning, impolite,
on afternoons left without anything.
And in that thought, I think, I ceased to be
a thinker, but a thoughtless totem-pole,
stacked to the measure of deformity
forced on my feathered friends if lacked a soul,
their judgment passed at trial exclusively
not by a robe, but pigeon shot and coal.
The Indian rounds the corner of the room
Seeing the sadness through the eyes of a girl
There are a lot of things about this world that we don't know
the truth behind humanity the heartbeat of ones last breathe
or the pain one suffers mentally
I don't even know if people can see the truth
Or if they shut themselves out of the real and into the fake
We all know the fakness of what a human can put off
We all know the sickness one stores inside their skull
Can we all see what's going on? this day I see some that are still blind
some that are so blind they can not imagine!
The things one can do
The things one may hide
A life filled with questioning
A life full of hate and despair
A life of several lies
A life with no reason of existing
A series of depression
A time of regret
A worry of fear
A fear of ourselves
An unwritten book with no pen to write with
Voice of reason
So this is where the
fallen lay. Below the earth
they have to uphold.
A macabre garden
rank with smell of green moss.
Silent mouths murmur nothing
as visitors snap and click
awed in reverence of the raven poet.
The Old Western Burial Ground
Greene and Fayette Streets in Baltimore
a rotten Poe rests here
his beloved decayed Virginia.
Bone to bones on bones timber in mute darkness.
Nissans and GMC trucks
vibrate their eternal slumber
lying beneath city stories of noise
like fossils from the carriage age.
Does any life still whimper in the din?
Can we say it is a lovely graveyard?
Do we admire sentinels to the mournful torture of fate
pain, dying, life, calling them
historic to cherish forever?
Forever is each night
as nearby
homeless lie sleeping
on sidewalks.
2/28/18
Our common end
we're swept
out of sight
and the bird
lies on the ground
neatly hollowed out
by the army of ants
an awesome flying creature
reduced to a few feathers.
Star-studded sky
With blossoming blue light
Beautifying the grace
Of the flowing water
Making an eternal sound
Makes me spell-bound !
Sun-smeared sky
With flooded light
Falling on beautiful flowers,
Dews in the morning
Refreshing nature all around
Makes me spell-bound !
Cloud-cast sky
With thundering lights
hailing the howling wind
In the patter of rains
Damping all the ground
Makes me spell-bound !
Hurt heart-sky
With pleading tears
Praying for some balms
On the wounded mind
Of hapless humanity-
A growling hound
Makes me still
in the burial ground !
--Bhaskaranand Jha
Came our love with an expiry date,
Sooner that knocked the door, not so late.
None of us wantonly wished to break,
But teenage love in time rusts to shake.
Nor a knot to break off does get tied,
Time tends to loosen, wanes as each tide.
The twosome on walking together
Awhile found out: our paths did differ,
Whence was warmth there showed up when a wart—
A sad tale— no ‘till death do us part’.
To be wise being no easy task,
What then is the way out? We did ask.
No use cleaning up time’s dusty bed,
Nor even copious tears to shed,
And like a record stuck in a groove,
We both mumbled not to fall in love.
But resolve it was of burial site
That lasted but for a moment’s blight,
And much like that record stuck in groove,
Nudged a bit, onward both lives did move.
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Satire with a tongue-in-cheek |12.12.2020| humour
Topic: love, relationship
Many years ago, I saw the arrival of several ships
They came with a smile and goods laced with their curse
In a short time, they gave multiple populations the clips
The curse ran longer than the promised verse
I have been in the ground with my people before they became a nation
I have seen them born, grown, and dead.
The air around them at their last moment was my gift for their parting vacation.
They will have their time to sleep in their afterlife bed.
This time, the air that escaped from their lungs of death came back
The sins of the murderers are now coming back on the people who have carried this practice
To all of the people who have fought the fight, I will give you slack
For all of you fighters, I have decided to take you into a caring private practice
I will spread to each one of you for your practice of false pride
Oh my, it will be a long ride