Best Sepulchre Poems
When the
seaside sepulchre
of a kingdom,
without its queen,
is smeared with
screams of lighting,
I wish to crackle
these slivers
of silver shakle,
and devour
that consoling
taste of balsamic
twilight, which
drapes every
ritual of woe with
maleficent vows.
I wonder, if
the thievery of
of my soul, will
enhance the
crawling of
raven sun
or, bestow power
upon the baptised
mannequin,
by slaying those
jealous lilies,
floating in
summery
estuaries of
my stolen destiny.
As these sage flames
fly across the
chambers of
my castle,
petrifying those
puerile promises
of life, I seak to
be an amaranth,
rising beyond
oak skies as
I engulf those
taunting meteors that
enshroud my
solitude and
dethrone every
essence of
false light, that
consumed those
waltzing scents
of my sangria spring.
Has my heart
become a
fickle thorn,
who will keep
bleeding guidance
in moonlight or
shall this
fortnight be
traced by the last
streak of treacherous
bloodline?
Perhaps,
'The Goddess
of Thunder'
is unfurling
those flaming
rose' maidens,
who wish
to splash ebons
of roaring wreath,
across the
woeful vaults of
my ribcage,
which concealed
their silence
in sentinels of
sacrifice.
I don't assert
the want of
swathing myself
in the perfumed
petrichor of
heinous healing,
as I don't want to
quench this
rage that
is carving a
strife to
refuse my
surrender towards
this succumbing
darkness.
" I wish to be
the soul of a marionette's
pearly pupa,
satiated by fiery halo
of chrysalis,
and slowly weaving
silken hymns of
desperate hope,
desiring to emerge
from the emeralds,
that betray every eye... "
Categories:
sepulchre, angst, betrayal, dark, deep,
Form:
Free verse
We Are All the Same
Listen to the reeds as they sway apart;
Hear them speak of lost friends.
At birth, you were cut from your bed,
Crying and grasping in separation.
Everyone listens, knowing your song.
You yearn for others who know your name,
And the words to your lament.
We are all the same, all the same,
Longing to find our way back;
Back to the one, back to the only one.
Rumi
When songs are sung in tandem
Ambience of speech is smooth
Devoted eyes dote your voice
Obsessed puppy love
When words echo tender tones
Glowing like sapphire gemstones
Not veiled behind metaphors
Tranquil tongue sounds calm
As triggers summon demons
Vivid verses turn vicious
Rage screams like a million crows
Heart shudders with fear
Soul struggles to beat and breathe
Pain feels like paper in rain
Silence is your only guide
Lonely sepulchre
Eruptions begin to ease
An anthem of angels chant
Rainbows colour fading greys
Lovebirds serenade
Categories:
sepulchre, love, mental health, relationship,
Form:
Dodoitsu
Bells summoned as they tolled the sad departure
Of my poor mother’s sudden demise.
I led the short funeral procession
Towards her eternal resting sepulchre.
Before her black ebony casket was closed,
I looked intently down at her, still beautiful.
Her dress, her favourite, all lace in black.
That was her last and final wish.
They laid her in a damp black tomb
Surrounded by tall dark cypress trees,
A breeze sighed and soughed softly in sorrow
While I stood head bowed down in grief.
Lifeless leaves fell in yellow-red bunches
And covered up her ghostly grave
No tears streamed down my face, heartbroken,
Strewed instead black roses, fragrant and sweet.
Categories:
sepulchre, death, mother,
Form:
Free verse
A tenebrous void occupies my soul
like a queasy, dark, wintry cloud
hanging low and heavy with sleet and frost.
No gelid wind blows it away
and I despair. I cannot forget the dead.
An empty, lonely chapel still beacons.
It stands alone
amongst the tall dark pines
of an abandoned forest.
Inside, the dim light filters poorly
through dirty broken stained glass.
There's nothing inside but dust.
No chairs, no pews
for the weary traveller.
I sit on the cold slab tomb,
wonder who was laid to rest
inside the sepulchre.
Then did I realise I was alive.
All memories stored deep inside me.
The waking of empathy
especially to the self, is painful.
How oft had I tried to erase
my thoughts on you?
I leave the disused chapel
and return to my empty home.
I still think of you.
Categories:
sepulchre, death, destiny, how i
Form:
Free verse
Today the darkness comes.
Music is subdued and low --
measured beats -- an ebb and flow
of oboes and of drums
to pace the sluggish feet.
I do not choose to meet,
this day of blacks and grays,
the collared priest who prays
but ultimately betrays
the cant that fills his days
with repetitious words.
I view the streaming hordes
descending from the church,
watch them as they lurch
about -- in apparent disregard
for any ordered exit from
the sepulchre, dank and dim.
They met to worship Him --
but I -- I try so hard
to suspend my disbelief --
to find, in faith, relief.
Still, the darkness comes.
Categories:
sepulchre, angst, depression, introspection, life,
Form:
Rhyme
Unseen but ubiquitous,
Savage and surreal,
If not curated but contagious,
Annihilative and aerial,
Then lurking, now loose,
You are the silent stone sepulchre,
Tangling, tormenting; transient truce,
An asphyxiating, aggravating and apocalyptic aperture,
You might among countless thriving throng induce fear,
Cause bountiful bouts of darkness and despair,
You might perhaps possess lives of mankind in multitudes,
Cripple economies and ravage revenues.
Say, can you cease the blowing of wildly winds?
Say, can you banish a bridal blush or a child’s caprice?
Say, can you hold the hanker of a koel for its lilting lyrics, while it sings?
Say, can you shackle the Sun, or rob its rays with your bitter malice?
You are nothing but an atomic annihilator, a sombre spree,
In vain you strive to rule over our spirits free,
We would surmount all sufferings and decimate your derisive decree.
Saptarshi Mukherjee
Categories:
sepulchre, courage, death, endurance, hope,
Form:
Alliteration
Born into this world as a humble, helpless Babe
Christ increased in wisdom and stature
Grew up in favour with both God and man
Baptised publicly by John the Baptist
Tempted by the devil, but overcame him
Preached the gospel of the kingdom of God
Befriended the publicans and the sinners
Turned the water into wine, did miracles
Cast out demons, healed all kinds of diseases
Backed up twelve fishermen as His disciples
Taught them, led them, and washed their feet
Spent three and a half years moulding them
Broken, He prayed in the garden of Gethsemane
His sweat as blood, such spiritual agony
Ready to do the will of God and drink the cup
Beaten and scourged on the way to Calvary
A crown of thorns placed upon His head
Spat upon, mocked, and smote by the soldiers
Bruised, He was crucified on the cruel Cross
He hung there with no form nor comeliness
Reviled by passers-by wagging their heads
Bereft and forsaken by His own Father
Carrying the sins of the entire world
He suffered and bled, but forgave and loved
Beseeching His Heavenly Father to receive His Spirit
Lord Jesus Christ gave up his ghost on the Cross
And the veil of the temple was torn from top to bottom
Buried in a new rock sepulchre, the stone was rolled
The tomb was sealed and the watch was set
But on the third day, as prophesied, our Lord rose up
Behold, there was a great earthquake
The angel of the Lord descended from heaven
And rolled back the stone and sat upon it
Bewildered, the women heard him saying,
“Fear not, ye seek Jesus who was crucified,
He is not here, for He is risen, come see where they laid Him”
Brutal death could not chain our Lord,
He overcame it and appeared to His disciples
And was carried up into heaven
Believe on the Lord Jesus, He was crucified for our sins,
But He resurrected from the dead, never to die again
Now He sits on the right hand of God, interceding for our sins
Beloved, He will come back one day
Not as the Lamb, but as the Lion
To take His loved ones unto Himself
Before it is too late, accept Him into your heart
You will enjoy peace, love and joy, which this world can’t offer
Repent, believe and rejoice for the Lord Jesus Christ is alive.
9th April, 2022
For Regina McIntosh's "Easter" contest
Categories:
sepulchre, easter, gospel, jesus,
Form:
Free verse
Quote:
If there were no night, we would not appreciate the day,
nor could we see the stars and the vastness of the heavens.
We must partake of the bitter with the sweet.
There is a divine purpose in the adversities we encounter every day.
They prepare, they purge, they purify, and thus they bless.
>>>> James E. Faust
************
For Light Then Plants Its Invincible Seeds
In that deep darkness, no pity exists
Fate too often decries such on its list
Of destruction and sad, sorrowful woes
Those mortal man feels as hard, heavy blows
Once held within, eyes bled fast to go blind
While lost hope too, seeds a worm-wooded mind!
In that set malaise, how can love rejoice
Human soul sees life as having no choice
But to bend, bow and admit utter defeat
For evil wins and evil always cheats
Agony cries, beast on human flesh dines
Where struggling in morbid black, no light shines!
In that sepulchre no pleas can escape
This world seems but a devilish landscape
Born not for man but for deep disaster
And in it, Fate and Death are two masters
Such is the great power that darkness holds
Mankind seems to be made from broken molds!
Let one ray of Light enter that abyss
Fate then finds that its poison arrows miss
For Light then plants its invincible seeds
Tends new garden removing all the weeds
And Death, its dark-dreaded touch must then wait
For Heaven above cast Light changing Fate!
Robert J. Lindley, 4-11-2021
Rhyme,
( For what is man, if divine Light does not shine )
Categories:
sepulchre, appreciation, art, deep, faith,
Form:
Rhyme
Feed them,
feed them lies
Feed them the lies they love so well
Give them gut rot,
make their distended bellies swell
Excreting lies so disgusting,
they leave an awful, putrid smell
Feed them,
feed them more lies
Let them taste the rotten fruit
that yield the swarm of flies
Let them take the moldy bread,
and put it in the maggot dip
Open wide their sepulchre mouth,
and spread those crooked lips
Shovel the lies down their throat,
let it come out of their nostril
Lover of lies who love to boast
about all the souls they do kill
Feed them,
give them what they want
Feed them lies,
til it come out of their eyes
Haters of truth, will never hear it
Don't give them that, please don't
Lover of lies,
lover of sin
Vomit out the vile lies,
then lick it up again
Hounds of iniquity,
got the lying tick and the lying flea
Love to wallow in the filthy mud,
love to lick their paws covered in blood
Keep feeding them lies,
lies they love to hear and tell
Greedy dogs who never get enough,
send them all straight to hell
Categories:
sepulchre, bible, judgement, truth, wisdom,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
The poet and the lonely road, betwixt his netherworld abode,
in canyons deep, and in seldom trodden creeps,
Always secrets, secrets....
too kept ----
he has made his humble abode, in the dark alone,
he sleeps ----
with vipers and white (sepulchre) tombs
(alone)
He does not see the meadow, and daisies,
(rising sun)
nor words of wisdom on his tongue;
fall away, to dark netherworld abodes....
Poet be he not, 'til fellowship and gratitude
be his home, and grace in word be his love;
of good cheer to all concerned and more ----
should even shadow knocketh,
of this he writes
Written in 2012
Categories:
sepulchre, poetry, poets,
Form:
Classicism
When At Her Sepulchre I Heard Her Ask
From her sepulchre she sent her calls
or was it from my darkest midnight walls.
Yet in those calls, mixed was love and hate
and many mysteries of angry Fate.
Some nights I swear, she danced in the house
or tipped toed, quiet like a mouse.
Yet heart forbade me chasing her away
or praying for early coming of day.
The last moment before dawn broke that seal
she would let me know just how cold death feels.
Icy hand touched me, as she said good-bye
I then heard, I love you until I die.
When at her sepulchre I heard her ask.
Will you please die soon, wear with me death's mask?
Robert J. Lindley, 5-14-2019
Dark Sonnet, ( When She Broke Death's Wall To Speak Of Her Love )
Inspired by reading yet again, Emily Dickinson's famous death poem,
titled- ""Because I could not stop for Death""...
Note-
sep·ul·cher
/'sep?lk?r/
noun
noun: sepulchre
1.
a small room or monument, cut in rock or built of stone, in which a dead person is laid or buried.
synonyms: tomb, vault, burial place, burial chamber, crypt, catacomb, mausoleum, sarcophagus, pyramid; More
verbLITERARY
verb: sepulchre
1.
lay or bury in or as if in a sepulcher.
"tomes are soon out of print and sepulchered in the dust of libraries.
Categories:
sepulchre, art, dark, death, deep,
Form:
Sonnet
Day of Silence
A shredded temple curtain lies
Upon a shattered floor;
Silent Sabbath,
Daylight weeps before a stone,
Birds withhold their songs,
Dawn - undecided -
Rain - holding its breath -
Sunlight pacing -
Flowers fragrance -
Wandering in the shadows -
Jeers and taunts
Run from their echoes -
Earth's quaking - stilled
Broken palms - quiet dirges -
Whispers tiptoeing past
Stunned dreams - broken -
While midnight stands watch
At a tomb
Yet in the dawn
Guards an empty sepulchre
When "Alleluia" -
Thundering joy -
Rings out
For this was no ordinary man
Shouted from Heaven's rooftops!
Categories:
sepulchre, easter,
Form:
Free verse
*****This repost went almost unnoticed, but I always was proud of its message: every artist that has an influence also has a responsibilty to his/her audience or reader****
The poet and the lonely road, betwixt his netherworld abode,
in canyons deep, and in seldom trodden creeps,
Always secrets, secrets....
too kept ----
he has made his humble abode, in the dark alone,
he sleeps ----
with vipers and white (sepulchre) tombs
(alone)
He does not see the meadow, and daisies,
(rising sun)
nor words of wisdom on his tongue;
fall away, to dark netherworld abodes....
Poet be he not, 'til fellowship and gratitude
be his home, and grace in word be his love;
of good cheer to all concerned and more ----
should even shadow knocketh,
of this he writes
Written in 2012
Categories:
sepulchre, poetry, poets,
Form:
Classicism
I AM THE BANANA TREE
I am the banana tree
That dwells where rivers meet ;
I am the banana tree
That dwells where sun lives;
On fertility I tower ; believe,
Your party hour has come
You shall now eat my fruits,
As these buds you see now
Shall wither not till fruits they become.
When they call me barren
And say I am fruitless and arid ;
They that once invaded my field
And carted away my buds,
I heed not their buzz ;
When they mock my torn leaves
And call me progenitor of scarecrow ;
They that once stowed their holds
Till cambers with my seeds,
I lend no ear ; when unschooled children
Call aleovera vegetable,do we blame them?
Their ignorance my knowledge
Though they don’t know me
I know who I am: sucker of millions nods.
My first pollination they arborted
When like gladiators they came
And destroyed my foliage like locusts
When they brought elephants to my garden
And scattered all my heaps and ridges
When they mutilated me like unedible snake
How so soon they forget that call me infertile !!!
Thanks for procreation that multiplies my breed
And erects a signpost of my lavish fertility
In their Lady and Lord’s vineyards forever.
Rejoice Africans;
Yours is not a barren womb
Rejoice, yours is not infertile -
I am the banana tree sprouting form the stump
Of old flourished tree the wicked cruelly felled ;
The sepulchre is opened , my resurrection has begun
It is dawn of my accession , my glorious hour has come
Because I am the banana sucker, this a tree you see now
Shall tomorrow plantation become.
Categories:
sepulchre, africa, hope,
Form:
Free verse
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
Thanatopsis-Phantasmus
The spirit world so beckons us
We all shall so wither and fall.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
(January 15, 2015) (Double Dactyl)
Categories:
sepulchre, allegory, death, grave, imagery,
Form:
Double Dactyl