Best Headstone Poems
Mossy vines camouflage decaying headstone
Thus hidden and fallen into disrepair
Foliage ever swallow so it cowers
Deeply weatherworn lettering embraced there
Threads of piercing light filtering through windblown
Limbs surrounded by trees, ferns, and wildflowers
Strewn mounds of decomposed fallen trees below
Cool nature's spirit aspirating showers
9/28/2020
Writing Challenge - Decay - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
My name is here,
But you'll not find me.
I am with my best friends
Near the clear, salt sea.
We are in the wind,
In the ocean's roar:
On the smooth, cool stones
Of some sandy shore.
We are in the waves,
As they break on the rocks.
Here time has no meaning,
The seasons are clocks.
We are never alone
In this place by the sea.
We are always together,
As good friends will be.
We did not decay:
Turn to rot, then to bone.
We're not part of the earth;
It is not our last home.
We've had a good laugh,
My old friends and me.
We've escaped the dark grave,
By the clear, salt sea.
© 2015 Diane Lefebvre
I search rows for a name engraved,
Engraved here, not native Poland;
Poland, war and ethnic cleansing,
Cleansing, her mom thrown in a hole.
_______________________
June 7, 2015
Free Verse, Visual #3
Written by Broken Wings
For the contest, Four Lines Only, sponsor, Nette Onclaud
Third Place
(Dedicated to a survivor of WWII, who does have her name engraved.
Now I fly !
May my gifts spread across our
blue-green Globe as I return to Sky
may my smile ripple in open hearts
as I dance on an orange horizon
may my healings remain
remembered balms and my
presence a white feather in
your cocked hat
May my meals remain flavourful
tastes on your tongue and my
touch soft breezes spiralling
sacred secrets
may my glance remain a
glistening gem in germination
and my breath a warm
whisper in your cosy beds
May my grey hairs nourish Earth
as I harmonise with angelic harps
my consummated flesh becoming
a silent magnolia at your window
May each slender match you use to
light your candle kindle my flame
that melts your marrow !
May tangled tears you shed for me
become crystal water that slates your
thirst after each marathon month
and may gentle colours of my
wash day become fragrant seeds
you plant afresh in damp Earth gay...
May soft indigo that vein my lids
cloak your luminosity in each
unfolding hour as ambrosia
arms to embrace my baton
you now hold aloft !
Now I fly !
take me to your grave,
secrets must be kept, see you
on the other side
IN MEMORY OF CENTURION
GAIUS LUCIUS MANIUS
PRIMUS PILUS FIRST COHORT
LEGIO VI VICTRIX
HE SPENT HIS PENSION
IN CISALPINE GAUL
WHERE HE RAN
AN HONEST BROTHEL
HIS FUNERAL WAS GRACED
BY A MURDER OF CROWS
AND GRIEVIOUS LAMENTATIONS
IN THE NAME OF FAIR ISHTAR
DAUGHTER OF SIN AND SHAMASH
HEADSTONE....
I came, I saw but the world conquered me.
I kept the real me inside just not to offend the world.
I saw evil and unjust practices but choose to sit on the fence, after all it did not affect me.
I said yes when I meant to say no.
I never felt the pinch in my fellow man's shoes cos mine was comfy.
I was always part of the majority because the minority will never have their way.
I never saw the good in people unless the look and think like me.
I carried my rule book around and if you don't measure up to it, you are doomed from the word go.
In my world, its my perception or the highway.
I surrounded myself with friends whose thoughts betrayed their smiles.
Today, My wasteful journey has come to an end.
My dry bones that left no positive mark now lie dormant surrounded by headstones.
Even the words of the priest and teary eyes of mourners refuse to give me a second chance.
A chance that I desperately need to show the real me.
For the living, why not learn from my regrets?
you still have the chance to leave positive prints.
As for me its too late.
Joseph D.C Ahumibe.
Newbridge, County Kildare.
Republic Of Ireland.
Crisp grasses reflect ghost-white;
Ethereal shafts of moonlight.
Tenebrous shifting shadows;
Declivity of dolerite rows.
A lonely spirit roams freely —
A fresh headstone in the lee.
POET'S NOTE
When written in English, sijo may be written in six lines, with each line containing two syllable groupings instead of four. This arrangement was exploited by the modern sijo poet, Kim Unsong, who introduced end-rhymes to the couplets.
***
dolerite: It is a hard stone akin to shale. It caps many low hills, which have a base of sandstone. This lends a flat top appearance to the hills. It is a common feature in the Great Karoo area of South Africa. Diabase is the preferred name in North America.
tenebrous: dark
HEADSTONE (Monsieur L'Vampyre)
All through the day my soul doth sleep
layed to the dark and out of sight
not thinking how my soul may keep
nor if I raise up to the night;
I rest in dark that's cold and deep,
my casket's lid sealed up all tight
my only prayer is death for me
although I know, it cannot be.
The curse of life forever more
was put on me and all my seed,
it shackles me to life--the bore,
and makes blood all I ever need,
except I also hunger for
the heat of love where-in I feed.
But underneath my casket's stone
I sleep all day, and sleep alone.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa
(Attempting to get enough new Monsieur L'Vampyre poetry for my next book, MONSIEUR L'VAMPYRE MEETS THE WEREWOLF. Yes, Monsieur L'Vampyre indeed knows how to spell "Le Vampire," but he also knows how to spell his name, and his name is L'Vampyre.
his life so shallow
needed to dig a little
craves not to lie there
in depth hopes to find his way
her eyes the deepest of green.
© Harry J Horsman 2016
Here lies Barbara
She tried to write about life and living
But couldn't write about death
At the End of the Yellow Brick Road
David J Walker
to say I knew him well
is a Deep slice
of life as we knew it
as we shared it
as we wanted to believe it
never needing to ask
which of us
conceived it
o hallowed ground
no longer than a shallow
memory
the shadow of everyone’s
alternate reality
I write prayers in rhyme
and paste them to
your headstone
In time
they will be the property
of the whirlwind
sent to bring you
home again
and yet
I still send them
daily
you were my
great and powerful
Mentor of Oz
and I in awe
because
because
because
The trails of fog like cold entrails
that wind and slither through the copse
which shiver at the touch and sops.
A chance at vision clearly fails.
Each jutting rock: a sentinel.
A greying headstone stands alone
against the tones of verdant cone.
My heartbeat sounds like a death knell.
A silver coffin bell from ditch.
As I am trying t’ place the hums;
direction clear from whence it comes
in variant beseeching pitch.
A hand that reaches up from grave
implores me for small change to buy
a warming nip of hooch as I
surrender will at being brave.
Stoic and proud the eagle sat
On one of a thousand graves
Punctuation for the epitaphs
Of the proud, courageous and brave
Who died so our freedom was saved
The 5G Headstone
{An extension of our personal,
technological,isolated generation)
~~~~
For those to be buried in the
earth....
Of this creation, I sing a mournful
dirth.
I almost feel like a wolf, howling
at the winter moon.
For we no longer will talk on phones:
We....such human goons!
Therefore a cement headstone that
has 5G and WI-FI!
Where you can email those that
have gone, bye-bye.
No need to attend a funeral at all
anymore.
What for? Stay home,watch the
Packers,have Brats and more!
The messages free, can run day
or night.
With feigned messages; like how
you loved them! Hah!
No more visitations needed,
send an Emoji from time to time,
as it will not cost a dime.
No going there with expensive,
nor beautiful flowers
Send a Pixabay image!
Saves you many,many dollars.
You will be even able to send
a favorite song to your lost one.
That's what we have become.
Nations of 24/7 selfish ones!
Watch my idea come to fruition.
Money for flowers better spent
on childrens' tuition.
If it does, we all need to make
an act of deep, solemn contrition!
For avoiding the living in life with
ignoramus through texts and emails.
And living as selfish folk, too busy
for others with our schedules and
oh, so dramatic....travails.
Perhaps a DeadBook can be
created?
Anything, just leave us alone!
Playing with video games or
washing our clothes.
Where technology replaced God
and what was once, 'humanity.'
Oh, I left out the sanctimonious
adoration of trees!
Quite an outrage and a shame!
And some of you weeping over
animal loss and their dying?
Whilst you ignore, your living
fellow man's heart's soft crying.
October 25, 2019