Best Urn Poems

What’s In The Urn

Strangers offered me to join them in a drink
I met them on a mountain edge while skiing
They seemed like friendly normal people then
So what could happen in a simple cabin?

Finding that which is not there or vanquished
What is there that cannot be...

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“we look for that that does not come and go
it cannot be organic form, subject to decay 
thoughts and beliefs are fickle, how little we know
yet come what may, our inner child continues to play”


The 'umbilical cord', 
hereby symbolic, 
its severance
where
initiated,
a soul of three,
and then...

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Eyes flared in agitation
Damasked in utmost lament
The tyrants laughed in vanity
Remains of his mother lie still
As if the winds were holding their breath
The urn cracked and cold as night
Alone, the eyes softened
His heart a hermit of radiance 
Temples tingled as silence stayed
The unprofaned laughter now...

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ashes in an urn
a lovely new urn

whose ashes are they
who was burned that day

what races
what religions
what sexes
what nationalities

maybe they’re all mixed in 
ashes indistinguishable and
undiscriminating in one 
could there be hope...

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He was our best, an urn in time
With all the fragments of jewelled history
But now today hear how the bells chime
The griot's pen scroll another pain on memory.

For all his knowledge of the scrolls, 
the dark charon came and rowed him away. 
Surprise translates not...

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It's Mother's Day
                
                          ...

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sepulchre of stone
holding more than just my heart
       still I feel your love...

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Suzy Baker was genuine white trash
Scorning fiercely, her teeth ready to flash.
Fending her homemade trailer park jungle
Dodging her dark and imminent funeral!

Lucy Walker was a pretty lady
Smiling friendly her lips always ready,
Living quiet in lovely suburbia
Meeting non-whites with xenophobia.

Why did the potter create them this...

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this urn 
beside the sun
golden like the moon
old moon’s teeth sparking
some slow white light
rusting & fresh
old careless bin
beside the mid-day sun
in a century
of some thunder-stormy years
a-waft in a forest
of a billion breathes
the eye twists her bright-set 
urge
upon
thine dim’d old bloom
ah, rusting & fresh being!...

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The urn of the past
On a decrepit mantle
Scintillating piece
Shines brightly in the moonlight
Telling of its demeanor

Russell Sivey...

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If all you need to ask, "Is beauty truth?"
It isn't much you need to know on earth.
It's less than what appraisers say it's worth,
This jar with frieze depicting frozen youth.

Curators and collectors both agree
If forged or stolen, sold dishonestly
Museum art debased on pedestals
Makes hiding art...

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a
                  h        a
                p  ...

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Solitary ornament resting in time and space
Distilled form with a timeless trace
A stilled life shuttered from the blight of endless days
Its comon veneer no rich outlay portrays
Its stature, dimensions would not invite a patron's gaze 
Devoid of pretense; no lace, lacquer its margins encase
Not embossed with...

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I awoke with sadness

a yearning cry of an alias
that was tied to an Elton tune
was a sad day even for me
that morning 
a few clicks was about it 
some would say
the thought of lever
etched their mind's
to them was genius
it fit well
it was already being sung

he...

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Splintered gold carpets the ground at her naked
feet. Stars spat from skies above crashing
down to carve out craters in the earth, barren.

She crunches memories once perfect between
her toes - the past squelching-squashing
in meadows bogged with rain and night-time tears. 

His ashes, once held in an...

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