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I used to go to the Bryce Hospital cemetery
at night and sit on a tombstone overlooking the Black Warrior River .
I used to talk to the dead but I gave it up after none of them answered back .
Still I was at ease there in the dark amongst their remains . I had no fears , no worries , no thought of tomorrow . Just a gentle touch of acceptance . I guess you could call it peace .
Emma Nicole Mar 2016
I have broken into many graves
Stolen peace from lifeless bodies
What I am searching for is not there
flushed Feb 2016
We tread in silence, wreaths upon
Gravestones, where you lie amongst
Flowers unpicked, at rest.
xmxrgxncy Jan 2016
Flowerbeds. Treasure.
These heaps of soil on the ground can mean life, have value.
They hold secrets, treasures, can be the calling for an adventurous man or the vocation of the neighborly woman with the green thumb.
But when you read the title, you thought of graves, didn't you?

That's how twisted and sadistic, how pessimistic and dull our world has become. We don't see the possibilities of beauty that bloom in secret behind the thick fog our words create. We don't have the capacity to understand how something like a grave- which, in our culture means death and insurmountable amounts of weeping- could mean anything but sorrow.

But just take the time to look closer.

On top of graves, flowers bloom for their inhabitants, guarding the treasure that lays just under the thin crust of soil below. They represent the life that was lived laughing, loving, and learning over the years. The blossoms show the value seen in this particular person by others, who smile when they remember the friend who still lives on in their thoughts.

Now, I'm not telling you to laugh and be joyful at a funeral. But consider the amount of hope brought by those stalks swaying in the breeze, the happiness recollected by the thin delicacy of the petals...

Look at those mounds of dirt. And rejoice.
Our society seems to like to stereotype everything, and now those stereotypes stain our words.
Sara Jones Nov 2015
We look up at the stars and think they're beautiful
But the tragic truth is that most of the stars in the sky are already dead
I guess that's why we leave flowers on headstones
Because somewhere in our history, death has become beautiful
Erin Aug 2013
my dear it's so quiet here without you
and oh my dear is it raining there too?

my dear while you're gone there's nothing here to save
so i think i'll visit the cemetery and name the unmarked graves.
August 15, 2013 /itsjusterin
Just Melz Jan 2015
Too many times
I've been pushed aside
     On the back burner
My whole **** life
         But I wanna be the fire
   That lights your soul
I want a raging, blazing
         Inferno
      Sparking flames
Making changes
        In the chemistry
   A little oxygen
       So I can breathe
A lot of hydrogen
     So you can believe
We're floating on air
        Particles you can't see
      Like love
It's a mystery
            A theory
   Of who's meant to be
And who's left suffering
         That's destiny
     I'm creating
Breaking
     Changing the flames
   Into ashes
And graves
      With no names
Just broken hearts
          On tombstones
     And no chance
*To restart
Jonnathan Drew Jan 2015
The people we love,
they come and they go
leaving us with misery and depression
but maybe if we dig down deeper in their graves
we'll find them in a better place that we might meet them in
some day...
RazanSidErani Dec 2014
Curse are the living,
For death is easy.
Gushing wrath of olden winds,
Stab with potential.
Go ahead raise our dead.
Ease them from their story grave.
Pray they crawl out on all limbs.
Ask you your blood,
Don't you dare refuse.
Ask you your truth,
Don't your dare lie.
Coz they already know.
They've swirled around and they've been Here before.
Walked on death leaves,
Death revokes death.
They know they've been here before
Ask you your life,
Don't you dare tell.
© RazanRinaldi
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