Short Mausoleum Poems

Graveyard craziness
Mausoleums give me creeps
Hardware not software...

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The white house on the hillside
Bright as ivory,
Entombs lost generations,
Coffined lovingly.

The mausoleum glimmers,
Glinting skull-white pale
A marble paradise where
Ancestors prevail…
Hearken!  Hear them wail!...

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Great Pyramid Of Giza
 Hanging Gardens Of Babylon
Temple Of Artemis
 Statue Of Zeus At Olympia
Mausoleum At Halicanassus
 Colossus Of Rhodes
Lighthouse Of Alexandria

Author;Free Software Foundation
Compiled by;chipepo lwele

PS;The reminder of the 7 Wonders Of
     The Ancient World....

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I leave behind in the hearts of men
Parts of me and a little sky, 
Camaraderie & memories
That I may live & never die.

Though etched upon my mausoleum
Rhymes epitaph the world does spy, 
My elegy can never be read
Save felt by the discerning eye. 
                ***********...

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Take a little time to wander around your room
and look at the accumulated stuff you own
Is it a living room, or mausoleum, tomb?
Or each thing reminders of memories you've known?


Bite Size Poem no12 Poetry Contest: Placed 4th
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
Date wrote: 05-July-2021...

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In mausoleum, home of rest-
   the afterlife on earth, 
our souls will watch from heaven's nest-
   the remnants from our birth.

August 06, 2020

Premiere Contest: Rithimus Divisa 4
Sponsor: Gregory R Bardin

Four Lines From My Poem- "Together, Bring Us"
Posted August 22, 2016
...

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Rider on board…..
Life is a road trip,
Where all the experiences,
Are the junctions.
And we travel along,
In those turnpike.
With gloves on,
 With the confidence.
So let's turn the Ferrari,
With a key of luck,
Be like Royal Enfield,
Spread your majesty,
All-over your dynasty.
Why? Should you hasten,
To reach your destiny,
The monarch of mausoleum....

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The dark, dismal, mausoleum at night
In a moss covered graveyard that’s spooky
The gravestones posting deadly dates tonight
Fresh dirt to show fresh meat for the hungry
The skeletons all walk in the moonlight
Bringing fright to all people that can see
The timeless glowing eyes deep in their skull
Feast on the living till they reach their full

Russell Sivey...

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When tombs of ancient bloom





Only if those tombs 
of antediluvian times,
Be the teachers 
for genius to bloom,

Will positively ancient 
hidden in gloom,
Flood thoughts 
of subtle minds,

Rise out of mausoleum 
and innuendo,
Nurture seeds of future 
to panegyrize till eternity.

Will every dead 
be reborn ....


Written March 11th, 2016
For contest by JB...

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It is the place of ill’s mausoleum;
This book is really an imperium
Which teaches everyone decorum.
A true product of petroleum – 
To fire out fallacy and presidium
And produces highest order decorum.
A place of mental gymnasium:
Highly creative, productive rum
Where ill shaded in mausoleum,
The place with lot of decorum,
Cannot be found in millennium.
It is the place of ill’s mausoleum....

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Completing the Pattern
by Michael R. Burch
 
Walk with me now, among the transfixed dead
who kept life’s compact and who thus endure
harsh sentence here—among white-petaled beds
and manicured green lawns. The sky’s azure,
pale blue once like their eyes, will gleam blood-red
at last when sunset staggers to the door
of each mute mausoleum, to inquire—
"What use, O things of erstwhile loveliness?"...

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Amidst summer’s day
Post middle school finale
In the concrete valley
A vanguard viking lay

We gathered as a ragtag crew
Peeled his corpse off the floor
Carrying him, despite the gore.
To the stream, as we knew what to do

Fashioning a mausoleum of straw
Hoping he felt no disdain,
His grave enveloped in flame
And gently floated away.

It was there I thought to myself,
“What is the meaning of it all?”
...

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dust.
tiny snow drifts.
come.
fall across these memories.
banish them from my sight.
change their vivid technicolor,
to solemn grey daguerrotype.
let me FORGET.
i can't bear the sight,
so cover them in dead skin cells,
dust mites,
dusty science things.
let them go,
lock them in a silent mausoleum.
some things are better forgotten,
some things best left to the past.
dust covered relics,
left to moulder....

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The king
made a fun of our poverty.
Marble faced girls always thought,
wearing black scarves –
sweeping the floor of white mausoleum.

You made a death
a loving eternity.
We die daily
in the face of old shine.

Who shoots a peacock
on the tree?
I mourn for the blue peace,
let the clouds come.

Who remains unhurt
unpained, when the night calls?
I seize a moon
to enter the crack of dawn.



SATISH VERMA...

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welcome to macho picchu built in urabamba, peru
lovely archeological site major andes mountain delight
her engineering is unique, inca family do you seek?
possible mausoleum face. pachacutec’s final resting place

rainforest’s easy proximity, exotic fruit anonymity
healing herbs, colorful feathers and butterflies
macho picchu points the way to righteous skies
a lovely place to visit, where your spirit will gladly rise....

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have gone through 
Many murders
Throughout my life
Cold-blooded,
Savage and heart-wrenching.
Heart lost it's zeal
But the one that 
Made me to 
Live in a mausoleum 
Without getting died
Is thy love
Dagger of ur 
Love pierced my flesh
Ate my ligaments
And spitted the remnants
Like a devouring wolf
Don't murder me with 
Thy love...
Coz,i have already lost
The chime of my voice
When u losed the key
To open my heart...

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I do not want a mausoleum
I do not want a tomb
I do not want a coffin
Or a viewing room
I want to be incinerated
and thrown around my garden
like pixie dust

and it someone else lives here
I do not care
sneak in at night
throw me among my marigolds, lilacs, and lavender

I do not want a tombstone
I do not want a cross
I want to be among my faeries, my brownies, and my elves.
They would be so sad
if anything else were to happen
and so would I....

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I have been dead for many years;
entombed in a mausoleum
of viscera and rigid bones.
There were no prayers or eulogy
spoken on my worthless behalf.
Within the tomb lies a stone-cold,
dead heart and a extinguished soul.
Both suffered a long, lonely death;
its cause was flagrancy and strife;
until one day she came along
with an amorous kiss of life
that resurrected my remains
infused them with vitality
and a different man was reborn....

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Bernadette prayed,
wore straw knee pads 
and
built a cathedral incarnate.

Remains of the glorified were
sun baked shingles upon her roof.
Beaded mercy chips 
and
pieces of blessed palms
sewn by dainty hands;
her mausoleum.

Visionary lass -
the divine enchantress
taught you to devour
a million agonies
and
digest the callous sins
of modern day charlatans -

who foolishly attributed
your pious actions
to 
telltale symptoms of 
manic depression....

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Little Cartons, Little Sacks

 
The mug of tea I drank at six,
the tea that drives me to the train,
needs a refill. At my desk,
I don’t do much. I wait
for lunch when every day
I eat so much the waitress gawks.
She doesn’t realize the years
till supper. Then I’ll dine alone again,
bolt everything that I bring home
in little cartons, little sacks.
After supper she’s not there
when the couch becomes my slab 
till bed becomes my mausoleum
 

Donal Mahoney...

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