personal respects
at my grave needn’t be made
prefer a smile now
grave
while leaving a funeral…
bapa dola’s student
said that
he feared death
the old man said
death within the grave
is not to be feared
but
look around you
can you not see
that for so many
life
is a grave
without earthen walls
having found his name on a grave…
there was a sudden
realization
a cold sweat
feet numb
flooded ice water
seeping into his black
patent leather shoes
seeing his breath
assured him
of the obvious mistake
clipboard in hand
glancing down
the order form
requested type
bronze memorial
size
specified by cemetery
design
clip-art angels
inscription
he never saw it coming
name
line left
blank
welcome…
digital decoupage cwmartin
an empty grave
you walk by it
as if
you don’t know
that
it
may be
for you
staring pass it
as if
it is a beggar
on the street
but
like the beggar
it
is willing
to
wait
for your
return
strange brew…
most days
i much prefer
to have my coffee
alone
but seeing
all the seats were taken
i could hardly say no
to the stranger
i thought to myself
he looks like
death warmed over
he said
thank you
but did i say that aloud
he said
no
as i stared into his eyes
i could see a thousand souls
he abruptly left
but left behind a package
i followed him
and ended up
in a small graveyard
i saw an open grave
its headstone
had no date
but the inscription read
live not
the lives of others
but your own
as i stared into the grave
i saw
a mirror
muted by time…
soon
the only voice
i have
will be
what’s left
upon these pages
and i wonder
like
every poet
who will read
or
care
that my love
and
life
are here
not in the grave
or
with the ashes
spread
ceremoniously
across the sea
look for me
not there
but here
for
this is
all
that will be
left
of
me
along this path….
Image by CWMartin
the sounds of the day
faded into footsteps
along a leaf covered path
each step marking
a memory to be forgotten
a love
now gone
a child
disowned
a death
all too soon
a pain
lingering too long
each step
weighing more
than the last
somewhere
along this path
was buried a dream
a childhood fantasy
that love
could
and
would
cure all evil
but that died
long ago
now only
a poem
marks
its grave
a proper plot….
Photograph by CWMartin
where shall we place the grave
the one that will hold our hopes
shall we place it beside
the one for our dreams
or near the lies
we’ve been told
perhaps we shall place it here
within sight of our
yesterday’s sorrows
so we can visit
the hate
that was planted
and blossomed
with our despair
During the next few days, I will be on holiday…yes again…so I will be posting very few comments on your blogs…however I shall continue to post new poems here and hope that you will enjoy them. Until then, cheers!
the music box…
the music box
has a secret
it will whisper
it to you
in its tune
somewhere in this room
was the beginning of a grave
a small shallow home
in the earth
a place of rest
for a small child
the music box
spends its days alone
no one to play with
no one to abuse it
a jury of her peers
said she alone
was guilty
but the betrayals
of a teenage mother
no money
no lover
no family
no time
no sleep
she
a l o n e
This poem represents my third response to the third challenge series between Jade and I. This challenge is somewhat different in that the prompt is now an audio prompt. Each poet provides the other with five instrumental songs (so that the song’s words do not interefere with the poet’s) from which the poet is to write a poem. Jade has written her first response which can be found here.
no room at the end…
now
i do not mean
to complain
but this grave
barely
has room for me
there ain’t no space
for all
your
regrets
should haves
would haves
didn’t mean toos
so
sorry
my friend
but this
is my
end
Read Between the Minds 