Graved Poems | Examples

Doom And Gloom

Priests of Doom and Gloom:
Fear, the seat of their feigned
power. We, meaning them, know
best: follow us and be saved
or risk eternal pain and suffering~
being forever graved! Yet some, as
I, choose the worship of one word,
Love! Avoiding Dogmatic Mercenaries,
Faux stand-ins, for the one, true,
God, all merciful, unlike the Above.

Snow

Soft fell upon your shrine
Settling, covering words
So lately graved, did those
Snowflakes; winters first fall
Since sorrows darkness smite;
Summer’s tokens fading,
Shrouded, by snow, on stone.

Stolen

You stole my identity still not finished with me. You stole my life my wishes desires hopes dreams and fantasy of being a mum a privilege I so badly graved. You stole so much but not my spirit I didn't give you my power my soul my motivation. You're an entity a evil word called cancer. I private fight.

Depression

Depression hits more at night, every battle in my mind to fight, sadden from things that happen days ago, let my mind over take me beyond low, stand hopeless an fear the next day ahead, catch myself with the wrong thoughts in my head, can’t seem to catch a break ever which way I turn, all the bridges ahead of me I feel already have burn, no way across to a new path, life hits hard an boom I’m at the crash, my head spinning with what seems to never end, I wish I could talk to one truthful friend, the bottle I hit takes me way out of place, knowing reality I can’t face, I’m just a broken piece never to be saved, my depression will even go with me when I’m graved, lost by different lectures given here an there, ask if there is just one person to care, people say time gets you new start to new things, my depression holds all of the blames, can’t get out of the hole I have dug myself in, in this life there isn’t a chance I win.

Question

The problem of nation is that it's situation is the solution to the nation,
The competition of the economy is under develop
The graved compression is the comprehension decent to the inflation, 
The police have power to liberation but corruption tooled over them,
The government have limitations but have no innovation,
The people declared socialisation but there is no imitation, 
So want can the public do that's my question?, 
The poem is entitled question

Oldielocks and the Three Bores

Lady Melanie with silver locks
Loved her bonbons, bagels, and graved lox.
Curmudgeon geezers viewed her a fox,
But she loved them less than chicken pox.

Melanie kept free as best she could.
She allowed no time for coquetry
Or Penelope-style stitchery.
But three bores persistence understood.

Trini, a jet jockey CEO
Lived his life allegro con brio.
As his lovely red Lamborghini,
His love raced too fast for Melanie.

Claude, a failed nebulous maunderer,
Gossip, post-modern philosopher
Believed everything in life was free,
Which made sweet Mellie his property.

Her third paramour drove flat-bed trucks.
When Bo misspoke, he would say “Aw shucks!”
And then, hands on, wordlessly switch gears.
She cast him off leaving him in tears.

Single she may wait until too late,
For a blissful bridal altar state. 
Should her three bores e'er face a hot date
At least she shall stand at heaven’s gate.

Pastoria

A silent stone cries to the sky
Heralding her tranquil graved name.
A windswept tree weeps autumn leaves
As on her limestone marker grieves.

Bite Size Poem No. 40 Poetry Contest

Fall

Smothered, 
patience wanes her cure
morning bites 
more than one can chew
and . . .
it's cursed, cast from demons
begging to get there first
 
blood drips down the back of the throat
in the stillness of the dawn

clenched teeth
awaiting 
a perfect mood to be borne
 
dusted, 
rouge makes way
to face the gruesome,
graved 
grovelled within the growl

gulped, drenched
in pure goldlike moments,
stat
liquid caffeine
needled
hooked then veined
 
nothing ventured nothing gained
 
sown then spread,
an awakening of the dead
blind
ripped corners of the mind
aching and coming to head

why hell,
you forced me
to wish for dead
 
there's no time for love
when answers receive no call
fall, fall, fall
we all fail
then fall again

The Huntsman and His Peregrine

The huntsman and his peregrine

Woods was all his belongings 
The huntsman's only pride and his holy livelihood 
Flew an injured peregrine to his land one evening 
Her quill feathers perfumed of mountains and coastal
She was somebody or someone of a kind like peregrine species of grass
He beholds an earnest affection for this creature
Full of dotes well up inside her injuries and wounds 
One dawn when sun rises and it's scorching rays erased everything into ashes ...
'His love for her
Her faith on him'
And the woods inscribed-
Her blood of despair 
Her thirst for life
Her soul sheds tears miserably 
But the huntsman owes no mercy to his once beloved peregrine 

Pain was all 
Pain is all
Pain shall be
Isn't this Pain, how can be composed of such tinsy four letters word
Isn't this Pain, more hungry and greed for massive depth inside the broken soul
Isn't this Pain, stands injustice to the medicine called painkillers doses
Isn't this Pain, a tryst with life each breathe and those wounds just spiced up again!
The huntsman or my beloved man;
His peregrine or I was his beloved (once)!

Rage

Rage


I graved the face of death
Dreading its final breath 
Amidst its dreary brisk
There laid its stiff carcass
Dead was its torch and candle stick
Buried was its headlights in its pit
Withered was its flesh 
Foul was its smell
Red was its face with weeping 
Loud was the rage my heart could not take

 Marckincia Jean
Free verse
08/13/19

Home With Bells

Am not upon a ship of sails
One that moves only by gales
Nor a trackless train rolling on
No engine room two cars long

No time on hand, as moments linger
Broken clocks are missing its fingers
One thousand years is not that old
There are no days and nights to unfold

Time is not measured, no such existence
For I have journeyed a silent distance
No gate checklist, I am without a name
All are equal, no such word as fame

Life is now free from all its tolls
Absent from burdens for all souls
I carry no guilt taking this route
Am now free without a doubt

Sorrow and misery have been graved
Tranquility of spirit will now be paved
Freedom does ring in this domain
Will always be my home to remain

There Is No New Song

In this world there exists little that's rare,
Thoughts born eons ere with bare roots survive,
Whose vestiges from life to life souls bear,
The gross gets graved, the subtle re-arrive.
On wondrous ways of mind we get beguiled,
Which when inventing eureka point spells,
It scans from copious points piled and compiled, 
That with our mundane logic never gels.
Since cosmic egg ought be oval or round,  
Things must return to where it started ere,
In a cosmic flight infinity bound,
The vast and void the same one spot doth share.
    Man seems to be the child of his old chime,
    He sings his song with same refrain, same rhyme. 
______________________________________________________
The soul carries subtle impressions of life through death to new birth. We know, when we pursue an idea with all heart and soul, universal energy seems to help us. Man continues with his unfinished journey birth to birth. In a way pursues the same task, same ideas. And hence there is no new song.    
______________________________________________________
   Sonnets | 07.10.08 |

Scarlet Scars

Engraved within my chest's a ruby beating,
An image of my precious wondrous rare;
I mined it from a sanguine vein retreating,
A carcanet arcane of grading fair.
Its lustrous tone bleeds lusty pigeon's blood;
Inclusions nil, my closet gem's most clear;
My stone's an unrefined and uncut stud,
A carbuncle inflamed of rating dear.
This payment fine accounts a carmine fool:
I rent my heart to lease a costly rock,
A tarnished shape for varnished casket's jewel,
A carnifex encased of trading stock.
          I've paid my chest to get a carnal treat;
          I've graved my casket, earned a carcass beat.

The Denouement

I sensed myself sinking down
Culminating the stuccoes of existence
Crossing denouements of mortality
Obeying the laws of life's caducity
And defying the clusters of earthly brevity.
My nostrils perceived the essence
Beyond the sod
My ears apprehended the sounds
Of heavy metal spades
And my eyes saw the quietus
When the granules of clods broke
And made space for me
To lie amongst them
While my body felt the ache
When I was being gently graved.

I roused to realize
That my sweven
Toured me down
To the afterlife lane
To forgraith me
For the next realm of existence.

~Nayanika Dey

From:  India
Copyright ©:  ©7 March, 2016

Gem

Gem

Glows with a gold glitter
Given as surprise gift
Graved with their initials
Guarantees the promise
Guarded in the two hearts
Getting the love meaning
Grabbing stone in her hands








December 5, 2016

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