“When trust is a walking phantom,
draped in dying dandelions,
let the wind blast forth its shattered promises,
as rain rinses away piercing pain of memories lost” Quote by Poet
the sky is a catacomb
of faceless promises and ghosts
clothed in tangled treachery
as trust is a wilted tulip~
embalmed in golden tears…
O’ deceived heart of the eclipsed sun
you were once glazed in jewels…
now a mourning mausoleum~
chanting a moonless requiem
resting in ashes of skeletal lies….
Never had I met you
Still I know your name,
Because of the notoriety
Because of the fame
Written in stone
Forever and a day,
Many gone too soon
Seems to happen that way
Halls of Hollywood memories
Echo down the tomb ...
In a place of reverie
Not a place of gloom
Legends of the silver screen
Lives of cinema and script,
Lying in silent repose
In walls of the crypt
Living on in pictures
In ghostly black and white,
Gone but not forgotten
Under legacy's bright light
I can leave a flower ...
Can touch your nameplate,
In life I could never
Get near one so great.
The mausoleum echoes my soft steps
Down long corridors of marbled crypts –
My father loved to hike and fish.
Stairs, a left, then right and at the end,
On a lower tier, I find his name
William – but only one ‘L’ remains.
I gently touch the name of he who gave,
Me the patience to cast in stream’s cascade,
Then tenderly a Brook Trout to play.
But as I do his ‘I’ falls to floor –
The noise clatters down the corridor;
I pick it up but cannot restore.
The mausoleum is silent as I weep.
Down these halls, each night a man with broom sweeps
Letters into drawers and there to keep.
Graveyard craziness
Mausoleums give me creeps
Hardware not software
Oh longest time it seems yiv dreamt, me Mausoleum Man,
Coffed in Mummy's charnel home stove 'round your stonewings' span.
You Monk brod in yar bunkous cell, 'tween sellow stone sainwalls,
All hued in Olden Woldic green by lichen spattered greenfalls.
You Embalm-ee bequested: just unnatural light for me;
So acid lamps cast all he's shades and the flotsome seeds of 'is swampless trees.
'Fore Lindo it seems he writ naivic skrit, entranslatid his laundrous floor;
But en wake of 'is ex-excavation, e'll read none of 'at the same, nevermore.
The Essence of Soft Shadows
The essence of soft shadows on the wall
that shelters where we'll rest when we are gone,
where light flows in to grace the marble hall
and seasons can be seen with each new dawn...
Will speak to us of earthly joys we knew...
like sunny rays or raindrops on the glass;
and essence of soft shadows will come through
with visions of blue sky, green trees, and grass.
The essence of soft shadows will sweep in
to touch our names in gold there placed to see.
And we will feel quintessence there within
of earthy warmth and sites that used to be.
The essence of soft shadows here on Earth
do not exist when cast by Heaven's ray;
where there, our souls, in process of rebirth,
will watch our borrowed shells slowly decay.
And there above, our love will glow once more.
The essence of soft shadows on our souls
will fade away to shine forevermore
replaced by endless light that death extols.
May 10, 2018
~1st Place
Contest: The Essence of Soft Shadows
Sponsor: John Lawless
Judged: 05/18/2018
THE MAUSOLEUM OF ALL
Africa is the burial chamber of many,
Millions of men and women rested in peace,
The deepest hole full of important bones,
The bones of *****sapiens are in the graves.
It is the cradle of humankind.
Africa the sepulcher of our ancestors,
“Rolihlahla Nelson Mandela, Emery Patrice
Lumumba, Julius Kambarage Mwalimu Nyerere,
Jomo Kenyatta, Kwame Nkrumah, Samora
Moises Mashel, and Prince Louis Rwagasore.”
Africa! The black coffin for all dies in Africa.
Africa the mausoleum of humanity,
I wish to be buried in Africa only,
The angels are walking free in Africa,
The guardians are guarding the graveyards
Day and night.
Africa! My last resting place, your burial place,
Our burial chamber
The last resting place of many kings:
“Shaka Zulu, Haile Sellasie, pharaohs, Samore
Toure, Mswati II, Tenkamenin, Mansa Musa,
Sundiata Keita, Oba Ewuare, Sonni Ali, Osei
Kofi Tutu, Sumanguru kante, Ngongo lutete,
And Ezana Axum.”
Africa! The mausoleum of many messenger-
Prophets:
“Isaiah Mloyiswa Mdliwamafa Shembe, Simon
Kimbangu, and Jean Mwambi Mulaya Kadima.”
You are our grave, oh Africa.
All will pass there.
By Alfonso II Warally. Chris
For you our love was neither strong nor real
But I had both wild fears and odd hopes.
And now in my soul there's a mausoleum,
It's a remembrance of the joy we lost.
How can I bury all those golden feelings
That you woke up in my heart? Though they died
It seems as if they were alive and breathing.
How can I write them off? I do not understand.
There is a cold and gloomy mausoleum
That is inside of me and that is simply me.
Let people call me stubborn, odd or silly -
For me your fake love oath was like a wedding ring.
Weathered black veined granite walls
Built so many years before
Moss covers the slippery walls
Stained black by years of endless rain
Grass grows on antique slate shingles
Ferns grow in nearly unseen cracks
Caused by ages of neglect
The name has long since faded
The plate fell away and vanished
If it was ever there
Moonlight flickers between distant clouds
Shining through broken stained glass
Dancing on a mahogany coffin
Every morning a red rose arrives
Sitting on steps worn long before
No one knows from where
Who lies in this silent home?
No one will tell if anyone even remembers
The rose wilts into dust
Carried away with the next sun
Whoever lies in this eternal rest sleeps quietly
Knowing that one person
Unknown to the rest of the world
Remembers them at least once a day
And for them…that is enough.
Crooked teeth upon rotting smiles....
Bearing their canines for the throne to behold
The petrified flesh of these fruits they share
Decomposing souls, which might have once been
Had they ever learned? Had they ever known?
Caught within these crowds of invisible things
Chasing leviathans Loch Ness dreams....
While the martyred they cry for the countless ones
And the Angels prepare, their chariots but still
These ferocious tongues that fill the forest with fires
Of wanton visions, within the mausoleums of their own
Identities, reflecting from a reflectless mirror, carry on....
But their hourglass of opportunity is soon to run dry
The thorns among the flowers of Heavens child
While the swords are sheathed, and the horses are bridled
Clutching, onto their last bit of dust, and unaware
Had they only heard? Had they only understood?
These crooked teeth upon their rotting smiles
An end, to the victorious vile...."Within"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The mausoleum, of seculars dreams!
{Repost}
Crooked teeth upon rotting smiles....
Bearing their canines for the throne to behold
The petrified flesh of these fruits they share
Decomposing souls, which might have once been
Had they ever learned? Had they ever known?
Caught within these crowds of invisible things
Chasing leviathans Loch Ness dreams....
While the martyred they cry for the countless ones
And the Angels prepare, their chariots but still
These ferocious tongues that fill the forest with fires
Of wanton visions, within the mausoleums of their own
Identities, reflecting from a reflectless mirror, carry on....
But their hourglass of opportunity is soon to run dry
The thorns among the flowers of Heavens child
While the swords are sheathed, and the horses are bridled
Clutching, onto their last bit of dust, and unaware
Had they only heard? Had they only understood?
These crooked teeth upon their rotting smiles
An end, to the victorious vile...."Within"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The mausoleum, of seculars dreams!
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