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KateKarl Jan 30
All that lies here are my bones,
A wooden box, this new gravestone.
My mind is left where it was born;
Go to my bookshelves when you mourn.
Epitaph for a creative writing course. Any criticism welcome!
I wanted to write about walking away
the two of us, fading away from each others view
I'd decorate it in poetry as if it were anything more than another premature ending
but all I'm left with is shrines in the form of mixtapes
and days spent wondering what it would feel like if I was still in the backseat of your car
instead of sitting upright in the passenger side of his
he says he likes the song I'm playing
but I think he'd hate it if he knew it's just another epitaph for the nights I spent with you
Ormond Oct 2018
.
Something beyond,
To climb into cloud,
Into the snows of purity,
To touch the rise of sun,
Golden as it bathes us,
To realize all is small
Underneath, and all
Is washed by streams
Of blood from the skies,
To reach the highlands,
Plateaus in the heavens,
This is the only poem,
A great blue mountain,
Something beyond,
For us to climb.
.
S Nirmal Kumar Oct 2018
Wiped the snow-dusted grave
The epitaph read, "Everlasting flower!"
I wept
Brandon Conway Aug 2018
The green field I used to frolic and play
Now shrouded in darken clouds greyed
With soil planted with nothing but graves
Vine and stone tablets with epitaphs engraved
Laura Jun 2018
She was thick, erubescent.

Advised not to give her my eyes, I stared:

she was haloed by the diaphanous seat

which held me when she shifted.

Flourishing fiercely, defiant,

she glowered, staining porcelain

like pink tipped damasks; a Fauvist impression.

I believe if she’d had a tongue

she would have screamed,

scolded me for my selfishness-

shrieking as the sorceress’ slain offspring.

My heart cringing, heavy lids like two tomb doors

shielding me like from her quiet contention,

I summoned the scrubs to put her out.
Avi Fleischer May 2018
I lie beneath the earth, a vessel now returned.
Survived by rhyme and verse, in many memories burned.

A legacy of written word borne of lessons learned,
Of life and love and earthy things for which my soul had yearned.

© Avi Fleischer
Epitaph of a poet...
...and in the silence of that scene
the pause between
the tears unseen
the rain
Roy tells Deckard
of the beams
of the dreams
of the things
he wouldn't believe
now all the words
have lost their rhyme
like hope sublime
did he run out of life
or run out of time
oldie - a tribute to the greatest scene ever
Caroline Roche Dec 2017
A quarter-life is twenty years,
Forty marks a half,
In forty years you’ll be a stone,
With a stick-on epitaph.

“She was a force of nature,
Brave and bold and bright!”
They’ll say - who never knew you -
As you’re borne into the night.
When really you were old and tired,
And didn’t care to fight.
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