My desk is a graveyard of unsent letters,
each addressed to you,
sealed with the weight of words unspoken.
Maybe someday, when you’re far away enough
that your eyes can’t search mine for the truth,
I’ll send you every word you once inspired…
perhaps when “Mirza Ghalib’s” city lights
take you far from here.
So you’ll finally know you were
the poem I never posted but always kept.
~Nilashree
graveyard faerie you are so dainty and fine
Sitting on this dead skull, wish you were mine
She gave Dracula a glare and told him to go home
Your wife is waiting, you ugly evil philandering gnome!
Explosions tear the midnight sky apart,
Mothers clutch their children , terror in their heart.
Washington thunders, "We own the dark!"
Tehran vows vengeance with a funeral spark.
Blood rains on ancient streets of stone,
Fathers vanish, leaving empty thrones.
Eagles scream while black flags are flown,
Yet both titans tremble when the reaper's blade is shown.
Ceasefire! they bellow through smoke and flame,
Victors' lies mask the widows' endless pain .
"Glory eternal!" both leaders claim.
While orphans whisper broken prayers in vain.
Oil burns black like souls turned to ash,
Markets laugh as the funeral pyres flash.
" Peace in our time!" they trumpet with a flash-
Then sharpen blades for the next blood-soaked clash.
Two empires dance on a graveyard and grand,
Clenched fists raised over a dying land.
They sign the truce with trembling guilty hands,
And tomorrow..... the screams begin again.
graveyard ghoul was insanely weird to those who could see
Luckily, this only included my Aunt Amy and me
Others were not clairvoyant; they had no idea at all
this creepy ghoul was standing right next to that wall
his claws are creepy and his teeth are nasty said Aunt Amy Cup
I told her to shush, for I did not want to rile this creepy guy up
The graveyard ghoul gave me a nod but sneered in her direction.
I instinctively knew right away, this was not a sign of affection.
Life in the Graveyard
Death is not the angel of eternal life
Never, never
The world of the dead is alive, not just remembrance
Never, never
The walk in the cemeteries is a path
The grave garden’s walks are my way
The graveyard is the way
The life there
There
A new
A new creation
The soul of the cemetery gave me a new life
Forever, forever
The dead are lives. Life comes
Yes, always in time
The walk through the cemetery is a memory, locked in eternal time
Lives in my life the soul and the memory of the graveyard
Forever, forever
The loneliness of the past lives
of the graveyard lives in my heart always
In
Eternal
Time
My life there
is a new life
The gate of the graveyard
Wreath in my life
Loved
Accepted
Evertime
in the graveyard on Halloween night
you are apt to see a scary sight
this evening a graveyard troll came by
he walked right past me and gave a “hi”.
It’s not Halloween, I thought, not feeling brave.
Where had he come from? was it that grave?
I said hi, he said, giving me a weird lopsided evil look.
I screamed, ran down the hill and fell into a cold wet brook.
Another spring sun warms the grass
I trace the names in leaning stone
Arrived again
Another year has passed
Called here
Somehow less alone
I keep returning to the graveyard gates
Where the world moves slow
Where the heart still waits
Every tear I left
Every whispered plea
Turns to quiet strength inside of me
I keep returning
Finding what I miss
In memories steady
Soft and honest
Long journey
That winding way of sorrow
Step by step
It changed my feet
For so many years that felt like borrowed
Time that never felt complete
I keep returning to the graveyard gates
Where the world moves slow
Where the heart still waits
Every tear I left
Every whispered plea
Turns to quiet strength inside of me
I keep returning
Finding what I miss
In memories steady
Soft and honest
Graveyard Gates
Graveyard Gates
Giant obsidian fences guard the last testaments of time.
Tombstones of anger, hatred, and judgment.
Forced in chokeholds by skeleton hands,
your privilege is the dirt.
You could be so much more.
Here lies your ambition,
Withering away in your eternal rest.
Sink into the darkness.
You’re weak.
Mental illness, the beginning and end of all things.
Perhaps within, you’ll become a suitable host.
I am alpha omega,
This is the twilight of your humanity.
Above the weight on your shoulders,
Grey skies shower you with daggers.
Piercing and slicing through and through.
Impaled by constructs of blackened emotions.
Say it loud and clear, you are weak.
Embrace the void.
Everyone has darkness within their heart.
Just let me do the thinking for you, alright?
Because I am you.
You must become angrier, out of control.
Look upon yourself and despair.
This is your reward, take it.
The thing that you’ve been searching for is right here.
I am weak.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
moonlight carves cold stone
a whisper stirs dead roses
footsteps fade to moss
Haunted Cemetery
Carved stones stand in a silent place,
The moon sparkles on every face,
Not live faces, but carved in bones,
Where whispers warp and shadows moan.
On moonlight nights, near tangled trees,
Spirits roam, with their will quite free,
Beseeching stuffs from passers-by,
Rolling their tongues with a blunt sigh.
One night, close by the graveyard`s gate,
A spirit in white, crossed my fate,
Pleading for a candle as gift,
I took to my heels, with a rift.
Our childhood homes gone and all their effects,
brand-new highway fills that space.
School replaced by a government complex.
But… the graveyard remains in place,
our playground on the way to school.
Log cabin monument, way cool -
staunch marker where memories rule.
Quote: "Isn’t it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet?” — L. M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables
Old age is a number filled with many years,
some with cheers,
some with tears.
I have worn my life with a guard,
now near the graveyard.
I have paid my past debt.
"Isn’t it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet?"
I can now daydream,
with a big smile and esteem,
no more mistakes is my new theme.
Well it doesn’t take someone from Harvard
To get the metaphor of whistling past the graveyard
As Dr. Luke states it and rather obviously
You walk over an unmarked grave obliviously*
The naturalist walks over The Foundation for reason
In an attempt to ridicule that very Foundation
But why as a naturalistic behaviorist
Would you grind when there’s a mill but no grist
You are borrowing the Christian’s capital (yeah I said it)
The ability to reason, but you don't give God the credit
Reason doesn’t grow on trees
Do you need more empirical clarification?
Generalizations can’t be seen with binoculars?
See the truth is something unseen or un-ocular
I don’t say in jest or jocular
Or appeal to Private Monocular
“We can’t give up God because we have laws of grammar”
See! The nut job Nietzsche gets the frustration
Sneaking through the graveyard
in the dead of night
to a hidden garden
in full moonlight
you want to be careful better beware
the fiery eyes
of the scarecrow's stare
if the spell is broken
you open Pandora's Box
and it's lights out
for the jack-o-lanterns
they're in for a nasty shock
you have to be careful better beware
the Halloween screams
of your worst nightmare
'cause something's jumping in the pumpkin patch
it's goblins going trick or treat
they're a-getting hungry
for something good to eat
A gossamer hung on the graveyard's gate.
A spider clung to steel, consuming its meal.
It had no need to know dinner was served late,
Nor sensed ghostly keels the summer winds conceal.
The owls flew on, unperturbed by midnight's scare,
That made dead men howl silently in each grave,
Fresh ghosts were blown toward the gate in despair,
The gate creaked loud at each brush of ghostly wave.
Grief-stricken men earlier brought a fresh stiff,
Whose spirit roams about as if still alive.
His shroud still sweetly scented for winds to sniff.
Where otherwise smells of decayed corpses thrive.
Rotten bones left near the godforsaken gate,
Lay scattered by the snouts of some groaning pigs,
As scavenging and ruin became their fate.
While restless souls lay buried beneath their digs.
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