Best Sepulchers Poems
sleek sepulchers smile
deceptive dirges die down ---
souls sing solo songs
12 March 2022
Categories:
sepulchers, grave, satire,
Form:
Haiku
Who am I really?
Lover , sinner , saint?
The outward faces that we show,
are only coats of paint.
Everyone goes about the expected way,
and plays their little games,
never realizing , that they all spread the pain.
The ones we thought that loved us best,
tell the most vicious lies.
And all the time they hide behind
a mask of perfect smiles.
A world full of glossies , and whitened bright veneers
passing by those they deem less worthy,
and causing them to fear.
Left with wondering what we did,
to make them feel such disdain?
People we once trusted,
now just turn the other way.
False friends , and broken vessels,
is all there is to say.
Whited sepulchers on the outside,
inside death and decay.
Categories:
sepulchers, analogy, betrayal, death, grave,
Form:
Ode
Forget not those who sacrificed that we might enjoy this special day.
Our cherished freedoms we owe to them who in hallowed sepulchers lay.
Undulating o'er this blessed nation the Grand Old Flag does yet wave.
Resolute Founding Fathers and ordinary men so very true and brave,
Took extraordinary actions to liberate us from tyranny and oppression.
Hereafter, may each generation be free to celebrate without suppression.
Over all the nation this day folks will celebrate with picnic and parade;
Fireworks will thrill and boring speeches by politicians will be made.
Jubilation should ring from towns large and small from shore to shore,
Until the sound of liberty resonates about the globe with a resounding roar!
Let true patriotism reign not only on this day but all others that ensue!
Yeehaa! Yippee! Yahoo! Yea! Happy Fourth of July to every one of you!
Entry for Kim Merryman's "Celebrate Independence" Contest (28 June 2015)
Categories:
sepulchers, patriotic,
Form:
Acrostic
Walking through portraitures discordant nightmare
Acutations better part, of singulars far too long?!
Enunciating endogenous skeletons; less proxy....
Amid the harrowing graveyard of their bones
Decaying biosphere chambers these tales
In secrets they have never told!?
Slumber gathering beyond the iron gates
Atop the sepulchers betwixt gray stones
Virtual tombs marking time which screams....
And all the blood is not my own?!
*****************************************
The';'Boogey';'man ~
Categories:
sepulchers, life, love, passion, time,
Form:
Free verse
Withering auras of Zin surround
The tears of a crying heart
Trickling down through ancient vines
Spilled into pools of sacred red wine
Where pain freely flows
Until the brooding heart glows
Embraced in time, sharp edges refined
Drifting to sheer delight
Zin pours from sepulchers divine
Sanctioned in muted candle’s light
Promises the spirit to ignite
Reflected in his sparkling eyes
Categories:
sepulchers, emotions, inspirational, introspection, metaphor,
Form:
Free verse
This the truth will always be –
amity between Sam and Abdalla;
finding Bigfoot,
gathering the ocean’s blue; a perfect wedlock;
Hollywood; Fox News; Joel Osteen.
There is no place where freedom is not
sacrificed for dreams, reality for sugared words,
a black man to Limbaugh’s tongue –
the brutal but softer tone of the Coliseum.
Our dream is fractional happiness,
a day with dark ending. Our light is a fast
exodus to the open sepulchers,
so far from youthful minds,
but within walking distance of our bodies,
breathless. Our fad is for the open eyes,
our eyes, a minute to see.
How fleeting are the seconds, and years.
When the old Ampad man came to town,
we went backward like a cult baptism,
there was this smell that walked like stupid,
along the Ohio River, the sound of tomorrow’s children
crying the cries their parents left them.
Smith was never pleased
with Jesus’ work, so they took him to America,
and execute the first 9\11, like Waco.
We strip barks from the neutered trees,
the rabid yelps in the Bushes.
We’ve witnessed Barbara giving birth to Judas,
an effort to fulfill the selling of the woman at sea.
We were terrified, but God never let it be so;
we will not go now,
the sky will dressed in black to moan our pending death.
We are dogs on a lease –
I can’t believe the things the wind told my ears.
Remember George, how we gave him Samantha,
then request that the black man give her back to us,
saying, let us take our Sammy from the cotton picker’s son;
he’s blind; he cannot see Russia from his house,
his name is a message from the camel people.
How can he rest his graying head,
against a pillow made with thorns?
How can he sleep,
with all that stupid ringing in his ears?
Categories:
sepulchers, history, political, , cute,
Form:
Free verse
Standing proud are the buildings they’ve erected
Bold and tall, contemporarily dressed
in concrete and metal attire
Architects of the future
laying down their visionary foundation in the present
Rising up from the ground
are their impure skyscraper dreams of global domination
A false resurrection,
that in due time will be torn down
Can’t you see it?
Look at the ancient Roman Coliseum,
a picture of antiquity
Showing us what the future of
modern conquerors will be
Broken down stones covered with weeds,
portal doors to the gladiator arena cast asunder
Ancient roars
no longer yielding
any amphitheater noise
All of their false high places
rent crumbling to the ground
Can’t you see it?
Look at the ancient Egyptian Pyramids,
a picture of antiquity
Showing us what the future of
modern conquistadors will be
Pharaonis schemes of world domination dreams,
chambers of a death tomb buried in dirt green
Ancient sepulchers
of twice wicked evil men,
who didn’t believe in God’s miracles
These be the pictures of antiquity,
showing us the flawed structures of inhumanity
These be the pictures of antiquity,
created by architects of a doomed history
Categories:
sepulchers, analogy, judgement, perspective, truth,
Form:
Prose Poetry
As I guess into her brown dilated eyes,
Pains radiated and gushed out of her depressed soul.
Discrimination had dwarfed her ambitions like acid rain from the skies,
River of tears escaped my eyes; her right was sold.
Her voice, with a tentative question in it, rested in air and was silent,
Her land is flowing with milk and honey, yet she is starving to death,
She perceived the iron hand within the velvet glove, not decent,
I smiled and she sighed deeply, education is in dearth.
Gathering all her scattered impulses into a passionate act of courage,
Dignity and sweet patience were in her look.
She knows that her skin holds on black anchorage,
Buried hopes rose from their sepulchers and was penned in a book.
Now and forever, girls' rights must be protected,
She is our sister, daughter and future mother and shouldn't be intimidated.
This sonnet is dedicated to the African girl child.
Categories:
sepulchers, africa, anger, child abuse,
Form:
Sonnet
Walking through portraitures discordant nightmare
Acutations better part, of singulars far too long?!
Enunciating endogenous skeletons; less proxy....
Amid the harrowing graveyard of their bones
Decaying biosphere chambers these tales
In secrets they have never told!?
Slumber gathering beyound the iron gates
Atop the sepulchers betwixt gray stones
Virtual tombs marking time which screams....
And all the blood is not my own?!
======================================
The';'Boogey';'man ~
Categories:
sepulchers, hope, life, love,
Form:
Tis alright for the sun has yet to set beyound the sea is what I said; thought
And as long as their is a sliver of light in the day then there remains, a ray of hope ~
Yet time kept progressing and they kept marching unto the beat of a surreal song....
As if they had accepted and or were bent upon their own demise in this tamed delusion?!
History had seemingly somehow dismantled their dreams within a life of shadows
This weight, placed upon already broken wings whom had once upon a timeless time
Chosen this fall; now trapped within chains to be bound unto the darkness of it all....
These walls; like ghost cursed to roam through the corridores of a perditious waiting
Finalities abysmal fate, carved amid the graves of their minds left bleeding
Aneath these continual perceptions while as clinging unto its ever present pain
Cancer eating away at the millenniums of nothing but bones which remain; skeletons to bury
Themselves in these sepulchers believed to be their destiny, to harvest and then hold!?
But what if it didn't have to be that way, is what I said; tis what I thought as, mercy called....
****************************************************************
....“From, `The Father of Love.`” ~
Categories:
sepulchers, hope, life, love,
Form:
Into the tunnel we went
In search of danger, black deeds and terrifying mystery
Armed as the Romans for this ghastly adventure
With EMF*, night vision and digital recorders
Prepared to capture in these haunting sepulchers
Disembodied voices, and hair raising caresses.
Dust
Crumbling rock, spider webs
“Aaaaamyyy,” her voice whispered to me
Batteries dying
Her energy rising
Cold it was- freezing
“I want to know you”, I told this ethereal little girl
“Tell me your story.” I asked softly,
Abashed.
Charged.
The atmosphere changed from a place
Deep, dark, eerie
To a warm sunny day
I saw her swinging from a tire hung on a tree
Happy, golden curls flying as she weaved to and fro
Laughing as a little imp- a true fairy
Then she showed me her dismay
I followed what she showed me
In terror and pure agony
A man, tall and tenebrous stood behind her
An axe in his hand
Blood- crimson dripping from it’s fierce edge
She never saw him
Her head rolled as he laughed- jubilant from this carnage he wrought
To Anita and her whole family
Her seraphic face froze in a scream that never came
Anita was stuck, in this place between the worlds
Confused, searching…
“Anita”, I told her in a rage of the dark, ominous man
who pillaged her chaste soul-
“Go Sweetheart, he is gone. Do not be afraid anymore.
He cannot hurt you!”
Waiting…the biting chill returned
My EMF read astonishingly high… Still I waited
“Ohhhhh, it is so bright!” Anita sighed.
Waiting…
My EMF began fading
Anita’s rage, anger and confusion began to abate.
Slowly, a mist appeared
Upward it floated, in it I saw her face
Smiling, peaceful, serene-
She had finally found her way home.
Categories:
sepulchers,
Form:
Free verse
I hear the echoes of yesterday's callings
like a soft longing from a long ago ghost
The emerald forest of my youth re-appears
at the sight of a midnight cadence;
Mystical night dreams reiterate
like an incantation from long ago,
Forgotten Sepulchers...
Tunnels of earth wind and fire burn my desire
once again, as I perch onto the matrix of solid bark
the silence is almost deafening'
I hear the fairies call with their gentry of good will,
"we guiders of soul have come to take you home"
and as I walk through their fragrant gate,
I know from my heart of hearts, that I belong here
In their forest of dreams .
Categories:
sepulchers, fantasy,
Form:
Free verse
No romance today.
The cemetery was deserted,
at the far edge of the tiny village,
shrouded in a fine sultry fog.
Large black trees threw darkened shadows
over the deserted gruesome sepulchers.
Few cared to visit, few cared to tend the tombs.
A large hawthorn hedge, irregularly grown,
surrounded its oblique perimeters.
Cursed, the villagers said
for it never flowered red blooms
during any time of the year.
An old hunchback lived there,
he lived all alone, with no one to care
No one fed him, no one was his friend.
No one knew where he came from,
no one knew his name,
but he loved the lonely forsaken place:
he weeded out the desultory paths,
and cleaned the old dreary tombs,
he planted evergreens and white flowers,
to welcome the damned and the doomed.
Only one woman came to visit,
constantly, rain or shine, every blessed day.
The hunchback would give her a white flower.
And she returned the gesture with a dime.
No word was spoken, nor looks exchanged.
She’d go to a small tomb, presided by a tearful angel.
The grave was covered with a cold white marble slab.
There she’d leave the white flower,
stand for a while in silence till she left,
No tears fell down her wrinkled old face.
The cemetery prevailed in gloom.
Categories:
sepulchers, grave, sad,
Form:
Free verse
.
White-washed sepulchers
Full of decaying men's bones...
Come alive Spring's here
Categories:
sepulchers, allegory, death, faith
Form:
Haiku
Take me away,
from my family, friends and the society,
In a hearse or the Bugatti La Voiture Noire.
Take me away,
from the surface of the earth and the Black Race,
Like a pest on a crop,
The truth must be told, even when sold.
Take me away,
from the well-ordered decencies of civilization,
In a wheelbarrow or government jet,
Like I penned down that which cut so deep like a knife.
Take me away,
from my brotherhood and dynasty,
Like a filthy rag on a palace’s dining table,
It won’t change the piteous aspect of the wretched woe.
Take me away,
from my thoughts, pen and paper,
In an incinerator or Cruise ship,
To carry the societal cross like Jesus Christ to Golgotha.
Take me away,
To a pit of hell with a wordless farewell or vulgarized death sentence,
It won’t wake the marginalized and poverty stricken from their sepulchers.
Take me away,
from my andragogical and pedagogical ventures,
In a dirty bag, casket or rocket,
To feel pains until my heart turns cold.
Take me away,
With the police to rot in a necropolis,
It won’t still restore peace, unity and buried equity by the democrats.
Ah! I still wonder why you should take me away,
Because I’m a black man of circumstance,
My existence and survival are always a marvel to the world,
Considering the fact that it is flanking on a miracle and mystery,
Making my life is a tribute to man.
I’m still alive, courageous and I endure…
Do you still want to take me away?
A Stewart Annie Everestus 's poem © 2019
Categories:
sepulchers, confidence, discrimination, evil, leaving,
Form:
Free verse