cold was the night and a runaway girl
lay in the snow . . . soon a man found her
he took her to a brothel- cleaned her up with a bath
gave her drugs until all she did was sleep
the police raided and found the girl dead_
someones child is buried in an unmarked grave
Categories:
unmarked, sad,
Form: Verse
they built a ballpark over my bones,
laid asphalt like a priest's last lie—
no headstone, no name,
just beer guts and baseball caps
spilling nacho cheese
where I once bled.
I was twenty-three,
shot twice in the alley behind Leroy’s Bar,
the paper called me
“suspected.”
that was all they needed.
the morgue forgot me,
the state ignored me,
and my mother—
she wept
until the flies outnumbered her prayers.
now they cheer a double play
while I sleep beneath their roars,
rootless and rotted,
a ghost who never swung a bat—
but still waits
for justice
to round third base and come home.
Categories:
unmarked, 12th grade,
Form: Free verse
Arresting the future
as well as the past
Time the great jailor
its prison precast
A graveyard of victims
in temporal loss
Destiny preying
—perdition the cost
(Dreamsleep: March, 2023)
Categories:
unmarked, time,
Form: Rhyme
Early morning when light is just so
I arise and hasten to sacred place
Fleet of foot through field I go
In my mind, much-beloved face.
Passing forest where delight was found
Talking, touching throughout the night
Free of guilt we became unbound
This passion of ours was perfectly right.
Unmarked grave draws me ever near
Hallowed spot holds me in sway
Here lie memories so crystal clear
Softly I whisper "forever and a day".
Pixabay image by: Marisa04
Translation Poetry Contest
Sponsored
by:
Malabika Ray Choudhury
Demain dès l'aube:Tomorrow, at dawn (Inspiration for poem)
by
Victor Hugo
Translated by Victor Hugo
02/12/2021
Categories:
unmarked, desire, lost love, romantic,
Form: Rhyme
Last flickers of a dying flame still burn
I strain to see every bitter remembrance
lain before my feet
pain stained mendacious propaganda
blackened and singed upon my soul
words have risen and taken toll
right or not, secrets have been sold
out of mind into the hands of masses
such asses, cutting out the tongues of old
forcible suppression unfurled
into self-made sterilization
white sheets billowing in the wind
masking an unpure infantile soiling of intellect
sociopathic manipulation
senseless stripping down of the senses
we're utterly defenseless
gather round as smoke heaves
and smothers imperious will and wit
free thinking dies as another chapter
cries out and is carried
to an unmarked grave
Categories:
unmarked, books, silence,
Form: Free verse
Now let the devious Pheme cast her spell,
And let the gods of gossip have their way,
Their judgments realign at break of day,
At such time you and I emerge from hell.
And underworlds will surely do us well,
For there lies some truth in what masses say
When time has passed and in our rest we lay,
Down goes the height of grace from which we fell.
And let us lie in graves without a name,
For what can capture lovely piles of dirt,
And to what god do we owe worldly fame,
Perhaps to one we innocently hurt?
In any case, I’ll gladly take your blame,
And on your silent tomb my name insert.
Categories:
unmarked, depression, devotion, for him,
Form: Sonnet
I tell you there’s no ending, no straightening the straights,
and the twists and turns of life will remain unending.
Where do those paths go, via many trees bowed by breeze,
and thorny bushes with fresh and old blood specks to show.
Some are freeted by time, just lumbering and slumbering,
as stuttering takes them on to old, past their posturing prime.
Bored by sterile occupation, hobby horses caught in gorses,
do their slim passions leave any maps for family and nation?
Unmarked by their passing, this olde world not even curled,
no graves to be seen merely ashes scattered in a brisk wind lashing.
Yet for all the loss seen, the old folk not dipping bread in yolk,
still the atoms they left will remain untouched, to rise in your spleen…
©Rhumour
February 25th 2015
Categories:
unmarked, life, philosophy,
Form: Free verse
What will you do to be remebered;
to become important?
Cure cancer, save lives, be the next Albert Einstein?
When you pass on will others think of you as
influential and amazing or unnoticeable and dull?
Is it important to be important;
do you need to do something great?
How do we view influential people, important beings?
The scientist who discovered a way to use less fossil fuels,
or the mother who cared for her family her whole life
just to be killed in a horrific car crash,
leaving everyone she loved behind?
The question is:
How is greatness measured, who will be remebered?
In later years, who will be heroes of the medical field now in
textbooks worldwide,
or the unknown,
the unmarked grave?
Categories:
unmarked, identity,
Form: Free verse
over the hill i see
a beauty not marked by time
tis quite the rare find
Categories:
unmarked, beauty,
Form: Haiku
STOP. do not attempt to enter my mind, my soul. for inside you will see things you wish
not to see. unless you dare to know the real me. step inside. a world of darkness
awaits. enterdoor after door of pain, lies, and heartache. see that they lead you
ultimately to one door, one cause, many outcomes. do you dare to enter the door unmarked?
Categories:
unmarked, love, mystery, sad,
Form: I do not know?