Interred Poems | Examples

Yorick 'tis Not, Alas

Tho' not with a dagger in the library
nor candlestick in the conservatory
someone done the dirty deed
and yet of bodies none were found
perhaps the evidence had been concealed
interred deep down underground
so no one's doing time
it was eventually revealed
for the heinous crime
of thuggery and skullduggery
terrible as it may be
where the skeletons are buried
only the gravedigger knows
and after all allegedly it was purportedly
merely a murder of crows

Overlooking Lovers

"She reassured me with an unfamiliar line."
Love is a mystery school, yearning for sages
well able to reckon sixes from nines.
True wits should elect sin's disbursements
rather than reflect on love's scenes of rushing bunglers.
Love is sick, blind, unkind. Aren't we cruel?

She chided: brush your flapper, dying blue 
between that pair of cheese crackers.
Remove the Devil's Pitchfork from your hair.
Doubling as Dracula, your zeal repealed
by loving an unpersuaded other.
Stay not inconsolable, my weaning one! 

She knelt beside me, interpolating my orations.
Entreat for veritable blindness to take better blame.
Apathetic to any flame, resisting even sipping sunshine
interred in the long night of voluminous drapes,
pray for cardiac arrest to efface 1700 hours of shadows.
Perhaps, pray you would love me, and I shall say something of it.

Before the brow grows cold

lazy bones, bound in poverty’s grip
in a garden, where hesitation weeds grow~
filled with s t r a n g l e d  d e l i c a c i e s…
      a recipe of wisdom, never tasted
   couched like a fly in an endless stupor…
abandoned in a ship, lost in the doldrums~
in a dark tunnel, where
        echoes slowly f a d i n g
     doomed to sail a sinking ship with no lifeboat

yet your arms can still push a boulder uphill~
   so put your shoulder to the wheel...
     never stop, reach the mountain's peak
sharpen the saw, dig for gold, tame white horses~
       while sweat streams down your brow

for once you're interred in a grave
       with nothing to illuminate the darkness 
 mountain of your strength will only enrich the grains of sand...
   and fork in the road will give you no direction to choose 
    you'll just be lost in the maze...
       like a deer in a headlight
 as confused as a dog watching a magic trick

Whispers Of The Dead

Eavesdropping
the liars
where poison is stirred
Their message 
rings toxic
the future interred
Foreboding
forsaking
all hope is unstrung
While deaf
to the mantra
— where truth waits unsung  


(Dreamsleep: January, 2025)

I Breathe

I breathe; I think; I slumber and I wake
I feel; I hear; I scream for pity’s sake
I push; I shove with little left to give
But six feet neath new fallen leaves, I live

I breathe the fumes of my putrefaction 
As I lie cramped with limited action
I hear the sound of my life below ground
Six hundred years worth of worms slinking round

I feel the splinters of oak ’neath my nails 
Each - one less day till persistence prevails
I sense that I shall enjoy the night soon
And be undead by the light of my moon

And now, there it is; the smell of the night
Your silver glint in the sky gives me flight
Those who interred me are many years dead
Their progeny live; and I must be fed

Shall any man notice your renewed glee
Your moonlight to them is daylight to me
I knew you were waiting, o light of mine
For we are coupled by ancient design

Warm me, my moon, my midnight accomplice
Restore my flesh; we’ve much to accomplish
Descendants of men who left you to grieve
Shall scream in the night when they hear me breathe

Haunted House

On the outskirts of town there's a house on Brooding Hill
that leaves those who pass by with shivers and a chill.
It's rumored that murders have taken place in the home
since it's been haunted by ghosts and ghouls who roam.

It's surrounded by a forest where shadows take to flight
and whispers echo upon the wind on a full moon night.
Red eyes stare out of windows from skeletons that talk
and no one ever dares to go near that house after dark.

Crows perch on moss draped limbs of trees, long dead.
Their caws summon the master goblin lesser demons dread.
The stench of death lingers near when screams are heard
begging help from graves where bodies have been interred.

That macabre haunted house is not a place I will ever enter.
Gossip around town is that it's soon to have another renter,
but it won't take long before they will feel the terror and fear
when in the house on Brooding hill, hobgoblins will appear.

The Widow’s Hill Far Away

Over the hill and far away
There is a small but lovely bay.
Not one building spoiled the site,
Just old tombs that give me some fright.

Seen from the top of each tomb is a soul, 
Interred, all dust not one a whole.
Many suffering ere they died,
No person praying near their side.

The cemetery paths rough plunge down.
Poor souls in deep sorrow they drown.
Why does no one care to visit?
Bring a rose, cheer up their spirit?

My husband lies in one of them
Kneeling I uttered an Amen.
The future bid another day 
So leave the hill, go far away.

Past Days

Past Days
Miracle Man
7/8/2024

Spent days are like a necropolis,
where all of life’s former endeavors are interred.
Those in shallow graves are oft laid bare in thought.
While those we’ve hidden deep, shortly become unnoticed, 
And that can be a good thing.

Father’s Day 6-16-2024

Father’s Day
6/16/2024
Miracle Man

Fatherhood is much more
than planting a seed,
An occasional visit
or some meaningless deed.

Many men can be fathers
while only in name,
Far fewer become DADS
an everlasting shame.

Memories of some fathers
are interred so deep,
That only on Fathers Day
 do they ever creep.

Today, I reflect on my father’s life
happy for the course I’ve taken.
Thankful He gave me life and name,
but my day won’t pass unshaken.

I hope today is a happy day
but too many will find it sad.
Resurrecting memories of a father
who never became a DAD.

Happy Father’s Day!

Travelled Man

I'll stop and sit by the riverside
     with my back turned to the sun,
And recall all the places I've seen
     since my travelling days begun.
I will record the best memories
     for when my journeys are done,
But I will not dwell on the future
     which holds the days yet to come.

Sometimes these legs become so weary
     it makes it hard to go one;
Then, again, when I look around me,
     I am not where I belong.
I'll grit my teeth and I'll move ahead
     while humming a marching song;
I am sure I'll find a resting place
     before this day is near done.

Tomorrow I will rise with the sun
     and move once more down the road,
I'll pray good blessings will follow me
     long before I grow too old.
I know there will be a price to pay
     for shelter when I was cold
And for all the many morsels shared,
     As is the travellers code.

When you read this I'll be at my rest,
     in a garden I'm interred,
And for all the roads that I have walked
     it was the journey I served.
If you should decide to travel on,
     have no fear and rest assured
You'll find much more beauty than e'er known;
     take that as my promised word.

The space between

There exists a space between us
that has widened since the passing,
which slowly fills with more distrust
as faint demons start trespassing.

The closeness of a touch still there;
but eyes that once stared into mine
now focus elsewhere, in despair;
beyond, and to that baleful shrine.

Words attempt to bridge the distance;
depart to fade, arrive unheard.
We live in ghostly coexistence,
you, deep in bitter loss, interred.

And so we spend our long days thus;
love parting, contempt amassing.
There exists a space between us,
that has widened since the passing.

Her Wedding Day

Based upon an entry in the mid-19th Century autobiography of Presbyterian Theodore Clapp, who lived for several decades in New Orleans, Louisiana.

Of the many young brides who I’ve married,
None were more exquisite than her.
Her pleasant charm, and smile so merry,
Both made my old heart stir.
Her fiancé loved her deeply
And she cherished him like no other.
Her father gave her away happily,
In front of her joyful mother.
In the afternoon wedding her vows were said,
While a bouquet in hand she carried.
Their reception next was well-attended,
like many young couples that I have married.

A few hours later, she fell deathly ill. 
Then suddenly, she no longer stirred.
Later that night, in her wedding dress still, 
And with bouquet in hand, she was interred.
Deep within her family sepulcher 
Remain four questions unanswered.
Why then? Why her?
What purpose was served?
And how does one assuage the ones who loved her?

Night Train - Blues Poem 18

Itching
itching
nowhere
to scratch

Rambling
rambling
balling
the jack

Freight car
open
voices
interred 

The brakeman 
singing 
"Turn 
"Turn 
"Turn"

(Dreamsleep: April, 2024)

You Fell Like October Rain

You fell in October, like autumn leaves
Funny it was a hot day.
The avocado tree was budding.
I knew you only a short while,
But it broke me to see your mother cry.
She was inconsolable.
And I thought I was strong,
But my tears could not be kept at bay.

Your friends gathered by your side,
Oh what love they had for you.
Your lover had mourned all he could,
He was the strongest, 
Not one tear.

They built you a house in the ground,
So they said.
They built you a bed, never to rise
So I said.
And in love they gathered around you.
And laid you in it.
That was the hardest,
Interred you in red loam.

And this was the finality,
Who would have known?
That your laughter would be so short,
Thirty and one years?.
They said we had to embrace death.
Even come to love and desire it.
He visits one and all.
His cynical finality.

It was hot and sunny today,
But you fell like October rain.
When heaven heaved in storm clouds,
As they entrenched you underground.

Within

Within

Within the stillness, faint echoes of sounds can be heard 
Late night hours, grappling with what is real and the absurd
Hearing indistinguishable voices, conversations overheard 
Perhaps just a past memory, lost subconsciously interred 

Within the darkness, where all your senses come alive 
Clashing with all your fears, deepest emotions revive
Blackness surrounding you, a light thumping arrives 
Awakening your heart, kindling your strength to survive 

Within the amber light, first light begins to appear 
Twilight upon you, your dreamscape interferes 
All memories of your dreams suddenly disappear 
Eyes adjusting to the light, mind becoming clear

Within that moment, both clarity and confusion begin
Your thoughts and emotions emerge to your chagrin 
Those questions and queries making your mind spin
All of these take you on your solemn journey within

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