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Terry Collett Apr 2018
Far into the distance
the white gravestones reach.

Line in line stretching away
in neat rows like soldiers
on parade.

The sun shines down
on them where the rain
had washed.

You lie there one
amongst so many.

Your name and rank
and dates still neat
and legible.

You killed in action
the legend states.

Your mother never did
quite get over that
her only son gone
before her.

You in some foreign field
far from home.

Your father took it
like man or so seemed
from outer view
but it cracked him up
inside too.

Sleep on
where no wars rage
or bodies blown apart
or killed to break a heart.

Rest in the peace
beyond the grave
amongst the others
resting here
the lost and the brave.
Dark Delusion Apr 2017
The pain from his hands,
Painted on my body.
I’m burning up,
I’m freezing.

I’m alive, I’m free.
Lies. Lies. Lies.
The fear is eating me up,
Making its way to the outside.

I got distracted.
I got lost.
Now I’m gone.
Now I’m forgotten.

Suffocating,
Gasping after air.
Tight grip around my throat,
Taking away my reason to live.

A silent scream,
Making its way out from my mouth.
Heart beating faster.
Vision disappearing.

I got distracted again.
The fear left me alone.
With nothing but a nightmare left.
He carved pain into my gravestone.
Destiny Fleming Sep 2015
Close Your Heart


Say of me I am living still
Because the smell of God
fills my nostrils
Say of me that I am living still
Because the Devil’s
laughter fills my ears
Say of me I am living still
Because the ghost of my past
still haunts my present
Say of me that I am living still
Because while my mind is
in Heaven,
my body is in Hell.
Say of me I am living still
Because the heart inside
of me,
is no longer mine
Say of me I am living still
Because when I see
the light
I run towards it
Say of me that I am living still
Because the life
I wanted was
not grasped with
loving hands
Say of me I am living still
Because my words to God
went unanswered
Say of me I am living still
Because the self-control
I’ve never withheld
has been stolen
within moments
Say of me that I am living still
Because the light
at the end of
the tunnel
has been snuffed
out
Say of me I am living still
Because the laughter
has turned into
forbidden screams
Say of me  I am living still
Because happiness
was never an
option
Say of me I am living still
Because the smiles
were all porcelain
Say of me I am living still
Because the choice
of life was
never mine
to make
Say of me I am living still
Because when I
look into your
face
all I see is
melancholy smiles
Say of me I am living still
Because the tidal
waves of my life
are beginning to
pull me under
Say of me I am living still


Because even though
you know how
to surf life’s waves
You’ve never taught
me
Say of me I am living still
Because the monsters
lurking in the
shadows
are now in
the light
Say of me I am living still
Because the stars
are now black holes
Say of me I am living still
Because the lyrics of your
love have faded
into tattered
music sheets
Say of me I am living still
Because the blue of your
eyes have turned
cerulean
Say of me I am living still
Because Romeo and
Juliet have turned
into a faded
fiction
Say of me I am living still
Because the sun
no longer illuminates
my mind
Say of me I am living still
Because your laughter
has turned into
nothing but poignant
static
Say of me I am living still
Because God has
forbidden me to
enter the gates
of Heaven
Say of me I am living still
Because Lucifer has
invited me for
a strong drink
Say that I am living still
Because my mind
is no longer clear;
but is home to
demons
Say of me I am living still
Because those words
were never carved onto
my grave. -DDF
Sam Hain Aug 2015
A poet lies here very often:
When not about, he’s in his coffin.

O.O
kevin hamilton Feb 2015
someday she will spit on my gravestone
eyes glistening, lips red and hands full
standing in the blanket of fog alone
her shadow gracing the aging marble
like the eventual darkening of a monolith
by the temper of the sun setting
at the fall of a holy empire and with
a desperate, widespread bloodletting
Nick Strong Jan 2015
Cold stone statues of all shapes and sizes
Chilled to the moss covered bone
Standing *****, markers of time
Weather worn words, passages of years

A place of disasters, heartbreak and crime
All gathered there, forgotten by time
As the trees bend to the seasons
And the passing of years

A lone figure dressed in black
Stands above an unnamed gravestone
Reflecting on past memories
Of someone he had known.

Brown wet clinging clay lies
Heaped by the side of a black hollow
Waiting for another invited guest
As the bell tolls, mournfully
Poetic T Nov 2014
I wept upon cold stone
I cried till tears until they didn't flow
I looked down then looked up
Missing,
Cherishing,
Touches
Still felt even though you were gone
I was always here on our
Anniversary
I would wish you
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAY"
I still hurts so much
I cherish
Everyday,
Moments,
Laughter
That would never fade,
I know your here in my heart
But there is too much me now
When there should be
"US"
I miss us hugging
I miss us holding hand
I miss US
Kissing,
Talking,
Touch
Is what I miss so much
A palm upon my face
A gentle glancing finger across skin,
There is to much me now that your gone I miss **US.
Written for a friend having a hard time at the moment
Poetic T Nov 2014
Wood of crimson & bone where the dead
lie still, leaves are their burial
Rites they fall from life to
Canvas,
Shroud,  
Envelope
The flesh, for the fallen are the
Food of the wood, new life
Reaches up, Roots entangle
Around every bone,
Interweaved,
Disordered,
Chaotic
Lifelessness now scattered
Among the roots of this linage
Of old, new saplings
Now sprung forth from the
Leaved burials that litter the floor,
They call this forest, leaves of blood
As all leaves that grow forth are
Crimson,
Burgundy,
Blossoming
Forth, as if each leaf has life of its own,
Each of the branches growing
Resemblance of ***** fingers reaching
Out to a world, wisps
Encircle,
Envelope,
Halos
Of white mist greet all trees,
As if the souls of the departed
Sleep silently around this gravestone
Of wood, And leaves one again
Fall, not all just one, and this tree with
No leaves, now resting upon the floor
Like the features of bones grow out and forth
As some where in this
Forest of crimson and bone,
A body now rests in its tome of red
This is the home of the dead, where the trees grow.

— The End —