Lichen claimed the headstone
As he lay there 'neath the ground,
Long since tended, overgrown
No flowers to be found.
The grave was of a soldier
His duty borne with pride,
June the 6th '44
Was when this young man died.
In this unkempt graveyard
Sleeps a nation's son,
Who paid the price, his sacrifice
His actions, bravely done.
Here lay but his mouldered bones
For when he fell upon the sand,
The Lord came to care for him
And held his waiting hand.
Entry for
YOUR CHOICE,any form,any theme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand.
5/6/2019. Placed =1st.
Categories:
mouldered, anniversary, death, world war
Form: Rhyme
The fever comes upon the mortal
Through it he seeks his mind to see
What lies behind the hidden portal
Behind the scenes of his reality
He sees forces that furiously unravel
Upon the souls of the flesh and blood
They seek the despair, the power, the emotion
To discovery the new in their immortal now
They sense his eyes looking at them
His consciousness swimming in their unknown
They look back, with a desire for pestilence
Troubled as he is, afraid he now becomes
Rotten his reality, begging for the something
To the few that notice .. his futility on the streets
He craves for his status, his power and his money
The things that depraved him of his soul
Yet nobody looks, nobody hears and no one understands
The earth has closed his gates to his mouldered soul
Trapped between the world of vision and the world of now
His mind starts planning his devious return
Categories:
mouldered, adventure, angst, confusion, imagination,
Form: Ballad