Short Sepulchre Poems

sepulchre of stone
holding more than just my heart
       still I feel your love...

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we shall go
 we shall leave
 our sepulchre awaits
 Hmm, sense it
 pop it comes
 what can we!...

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Christians offer prayer to
Heavens above,
Realizing their sins are forgiven
Instantly and forever.
Scriptures have recorded this
Transcendent act.  His death an
Investiture in mankind.  His
Sepulchre a transitory tenement.
Revived by God,
Instantiating His power
So that man may know this
Emanation was
Not accidental....

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Bryant’s Necropolis Conceit
 
Silent halls of death so cometh
William Cullen Bryant
Thanatopsis supremeus now
A sepulchre awaits us all.

Dour darkness and shroud forever
Thanatopsis-Phantasmus
The spirit world so beckons us
We all shall so wither and fall.

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, 
(January 15, 2015) (Double Dactyl)...

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Wisdom as time brushed these eyes in somber shades..
Covered gray taking another drag while pondering this sepulchre
An empty task and Hyde, always makes me laugh ? Tis my other half
Two babies amid their sandbox ? Tugging upon the rope chattering away
Aneath her deep blue sky watching his world passing by; holding them close....
When love's tiny precious heart begins to cry ? Saying, Hush little baby it'll be alright....

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Bamboozlement, a joy to thy heart
And thou gloat at their misfortunes
Maliciously misleading them with tricks
Bury this private property, a plea
Otherwise, you'll earn thy pay in full
One's joy comes from good wishes
Zap thy zest for schadenfreude
Let go of those wanton moral filths 
Embrace the joy from good wishes
Maintain my moral message and 
Enjoy big in a little planet
Never should thou forget
The day of thy sepulchre sleep...

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The splinters of our marrow comes, 
Shivering thunder for a lengthy spray-
Warmth beautifies our essence;
Glittering ray sends goose down spines! 
She comes,  nostalgia drums
The lily-borne sepulchre; its beauty I ponder
Goozy feelings; my road alone
This journey be tiresome 
For I be so glad to take it
Come forth hither,  the beauty of our land! 
Hollow tremble,  belly grumble
For its angels are generous in vision,  
A journey,  I delight thee....

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Who moved the stone?           
On Sunday - who indeed?                    
Evangelists extol                                     
A most baseless creed

If the stone were shifted
As a shot-put heft    
By some improbable
Conspiracy - or theft            

And Peter in his madness
Encountered but the air  
Never having witnessed       
His visage or His glare
  
And no angelic radiance
(That diadems were dim)
Met Mary at the somber
Sepulchre of Him...

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Forget the corn 
Down the gully, boy 
It is a poor crop 
To our present history. 
First Heather, 
Then your father 
I am torn with so many griefs for you 
Then just when healing was about to begin 
Your best brother to me 
And your sister evading memory 
Tore the sepulchre of pain open. 
O little tree 
How do you take all this storm? 
Where do you find the roots 
So deep down to cope? 
God must be very good, 
Very deep soil to you. 
Please plant again, my faith in three....

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The splinters of our marrow has come, 
Shivering thunder of a lengthy spray, 
Warmth beautifies our essence, 
The glittering ray sends goose, our spines 
Whenever she comes, nostalgia drums
The lily borne sepulchre ; it's beauty I ponder 
The goozy feelings ; my road alone 
This journey, tiresome, 
I be glad to walk it home 
Come forth hither, d beauty of our land 
The hollow tremble, my belly grumble
For its angels are generous in vision. 
A journey, I delight thee....

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For all our fields 
that are pampered with gold,
for all our forest 
that are flooded with milk and honey,
our song is yet as captives` tale.

Our shadows betray us 
before the morning sun,
In lack and decay
our past is described,
and deep is it today
as stagnation prevails.

With all our treasure
our travail runs without measure.
With all our pleasure,
we are mates to untold preasure,
and all at once is the global village 
passed to our future,
the cupof resignation....

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