Short Gravestones Poems

Idle gnomes
glumly guard gravestones
ungrateful Immortal sleeps...

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an old cemetery
tilted gravestones thrusting
~ a Hare nibbles grass...

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green eggs on gravestones
with Easter baskets for two
I wonder aloud...

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gravestones one by one 
nestled in the countryside 
stone's throw from small town...

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Gravestones, white crosses
bone-chill breaths of old ghosts, stirs-
Dried, blood-red poppies....

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Gravestones lopsided
Forgotten behind the trees 
Surrounded by grass
Sun crosses risen from earth 
Crowned with some olive green mosh...

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I

Our coalescent bodies,
align as gravestones in
mother's spacious palms;
she remains within the grove
nurturing bastard children
in her arms of oaken branches....

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You took pride in not looking back
So I wrote our milestones on gravestones
Written to a disconnected
Fri                              end

©Tacito...

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The first casualty of war…
truth

The last casualty of war…
death

Truth fighting death,
beginning to end

Questions unanswered
—gravestones contend


(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2020)...

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The night is a den
  of mixed horrors

A trap
  where you sleep with the dead

Any light
  that’s remiss or left vacant

A pathway
  —to gravestones unread

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2019)...

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I kissed the rain
As it caressed my aches and pains
Darkened skies, as the wind passes me by
Wandering among the gravestones
Wondering where my final place shall be
Footprints in the earth softly whisper, soon, soon....

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A pleasant, relieving 
sadness fills me 
as I pass in the shadows
of gravestones. 

The mockingbird 
on high alert 
speaks for them,
in the night's deepest hour
its chirps are variations
of lives once lived....

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angular
behind black,
a suggestion of brick;

the spire moon
shadows the roots
under stars

slight warmth
of sandstone
and ticking birds,

small movements
between gravestones
and curled brass

a dark box
of stone waiting
for the edge of light...

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Walking through the quiet graveyard 
beyond a reality that defines time.
Discreetly, reading new and old gravestones,
bound by the realms of mortality, Dead!
Alive my time instead, but one day will lay my head.
...

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don't be fooled by the grey beard, 
I'm the science fiction you speak of, 
the little wizard bloke in the picture
whose antics between gravestones
and christening robes jerk like those
flicker book pages we made as kids, 
and now, old again, today is payback

...

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a scratch
a scar
        an inscription
carvings 
         as memorials
gravestones
and walls
            of a cave:
I was here
            we were here
we lived
we loved
we died
            now,no one
remembers
              our sighs
              our cries
....... our lives...

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A night and a dry dream
Open my mind to scream
All that was and will be
In remnants fading

Edgar Allan Poe chokes
As a grey face in a hall
Flies though a worn wall
Dark clouds wash over

Gravestones moan gray rain
As marble cherubs mock their pain
With gnarled hands yearning
Can't you see the crypt turning?...

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Ghosts in Yakima

Walking along a graveyard
Looking for my father’s grave
Seeing all the gravestones

I begin to sense the spirits
Of the restless dead
They linger around the graveyards

Waiting for visitors
Eager to talk to anyone 
Who cares to stop 

And chat
So lonely being a ghost
With no one to haunt...

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Its’ half past sunset and
The wind really blows cold.
No time left for memories 
And I am truly old.
Gravestones mark the path
That I must traverse.
Every shadow seems ominous and
Wraiths stalk like a curse.
So quickly I travel the distance,
From the gates of the entombed.
After all, what else is left for 
Someone who is doomed....

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In the soak of the rain
Church bells chime
and the lichen covers gravestones
There is not much change in the touch of needle
Silence falls between the leaves
belonging to the netherworld
of coldness cussing down winding roads
like false hope aching to the core
of lose faltering teasing your skin 
Lodgements if only we could...

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Death followed my footsteps softly behind
More invisible than air could be, 
I convinced myself like you do so now
Its chasing another but not me.

I hurried on with my pretentious chores
Glancing at gravestones of all those dead, 
How gullible was I to think that death
Would find some other not me instead.
           ***********...

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Crystal dewdrop jewels pendent from leafless Hawthorne
over snowdrop pearls and early golden buds of daffodil.
A blackbird upon Sparrow, Peggy Gladys does adorn,
while morning light accentuates the name of Mitchell, Bill.
I look behind, my footsteps in the dew a path have worn,
past Throwers by the row, as well as Bunting, Jane. Stowe, Daniel....

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Gravestone

I never believed in gravestones
A stone left to show your passing
Just a name and some dates
Left standing alone for all time
A place for people to come and cry
They tell you how much they miss you
But that fades and you are left all alone
Yet, a gravestone does not tell who you were
How you lived or who you loved
It merely says that you were there...

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Contest entry: Kintsuroi


Oh the mass of rotted enamel 
The disfiguration of an old time beauty
Brown gravestones twisted
It really is not me…

No amalgam to repair
I think I will be bold
And look into kintsuroi
And get them fixed with gold

A dashing smile of golden teeth
I will flash your way
But I think it is expensive and
You may have to pay

© GG 8 /01/2014...

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Grey gravestones stand erect like soldiers.
Fallen heroes in nameless graves,
they fought for king and country
and paid a heavy price
with their precious lives.
We should give thanks
and pray for
those who
died.

*gravestones classed as 2 syllables NOT 3 as per how many syllables

Sponsored by Broken Wings
Form N Ninette or Nonet

04~21~17...

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