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Michael R Burch Mar 2020
Completing the Pattern
by Michael R. Burch

Walk with me now, among the transfixed dead
who kept life’s compact and who thus endure
harsh sentence here—among pink-petaled beds
and manicured green lawns. The sky’s azure,
pale blue once like their eyes, will gleam blood-red
at last when sunset staggers to the door
of each white mausoleum, to inquire—
"What use, O things of erstwhile loveliness?"

Keywords/Tags: death, sentence, dead, cemetery, graveyard, mausoleum, corpses, manicured, lawn, flowers, pink, petals, blue, sky, red, sunset
Twilight shadows gather
in an empty park,
to celebrate the close of day usher in the dark.

They run around and
chase each other
whispers on the ground
one last game of hide and seek
before they can't be found

They relish dusk until
our star finally bows its head.
Then in a rush
the park's hush-hush
til dawn gets out of bed
I've always believed in shadow monsters.  Inspired by the immortal Michaelangelo's Dusk and Dawn sculpture in the Medici mausoleum.
Spenser Bennett Jun 2016
Here lies my youth
So polite and couth

Here lies my guilt
Dead beneath these pillars built

Greed yet lives, however sick
And apathy, thy name is Nick

And I rest in your mausoleum
For ever and ever ad nauseam

Just over the hill
Lies the addict without his pill

Behind that weeping tree
Lies the hopes of the free

No one mourned for Truth
Too busy reclaiming wasted youth

And I rest in your mausoleum
For ever and ever ad nauseam

All at once beauty did fade
And was soon forgot by the *****

But from this once barren field
Our new life will yield

Fed by the bones of the mother
And spurred on to uplift one another

And I will rest in your mausoleum
For ever and ever ad nauseam
Liam C Calhoun Aug 2015
Mao’s on the wall.
Mao’s on the cat,
Mao’s the cat,
And Mao’s on the truck.
Mao’s tucked text.
Mao’s still the cat
Mao’s on the hat;
And Mao’s rendered stencil.
Mao draped in red,
Mao embalmed vacuum,
Mao smiling dirt
And Mao in slaughter;
The good, the bad,
The, “godly,” great
The ’89 slaughtered, ugly,
And as putrid as the scholars
Being spat upon.
So Mao’s tempered glass
And Mao’s tempered solemn,
Surrounded a spectacle,
When I, Mao and I,
Author and other, other and
Away, gaze eye-to-eye with,
His are closed,
Mine, unblinking.
I think of heroes,
I, “tinker,” butchers,
And ponder,
“Just,” and to the right of,
Right,” what is, “right?”
Would he have been?
Would she have been?
Would I have been?
Just what the hell is,” right?”
I get it, the 1989 Tienanmen Square Massacre occurred under Deng Xiaoping, but Mao's policies laid the seeds for said devastation. The point is, some have asked me to post some more, "China," poetry, so here it is - 2007 and a visit to his mausoleum; as creepy as any corpse'd be. Oddly enough, I've studied him quite a bit, he had good intentions, but the road to hell is paved with the best intentions. Oddly enough again, most of the young here can't stand him. Either way - Dictators at home, dictators abroad, they tell us what's "right," but what really is?
Glottonous May 2015
Now as you stand in armor chivalrous
And win by arms this castle all for us,

It feels as though I’ve kissed your lips before
And lost you to some other timeless war.

So when red peril spawns itself anew,
I know you’ll save me like you always do.

Our future vows wrap me in memory,
Embraced by souls and your eyes seamlessly.

Though still our fires flash and turn to shade,
And from our hearts eternity will fade,

Our ashes skim the pool of everywhen
To build the stars until we love again.
A love poem.
S R Mats May 2015
The most exquisite symbol that I could give,
“A teardrop on the cheek of time”.  This tomb
Of my heart white walls of marble enclose.

Nothing matters.  Even if the people suffer,
Their blood will stain the Makrana stone;
Unclean, no longer pure.  My love rests

With your moldering body forever.  Only
Our youthful memories keep me until
I lie with you, again, Mumtaz.
Nandini Jul 2014
When you read them you said words were dead
Only mausoleums could be created of them
You spoke the same tongue " words"
And yes you were right ! your words
entombed my living heart but in your love

But these same words archived hope
Only the true seeker could find
What if they created mausoleums ?
I marbled them
with the turquoise white of my tears

Intricately chiseled with love's essence
Only sunlight could ride with the breeze
Into its minarets laid around you , my life confined
As now you slumber in the deep of afterlife
Under the canopy of the crescent moon

Yes I created a mausoleum
A mausoleum of undying love
A mausoleum that crowns you
A mausoleum I called "Taj"*

Few lines I wrote reminiscing the Taj Mahal!
What an example of boundless love beyond life!

— The End —