#headstone
I'd rather be alone
Than to be this lonely
With someone beside me
I'd much rather be
Just me only
Till it's just me and my headstone
©2024
Aug 24, 2024
Aug 24, 2024 at 9:42 AM UTC
Etched into my headstone
please write
"eternally happy,
eternally free"
Oct 6, 2023
Oct 6, 2023 at 8:59 AM UTC
Doppelgänger
by Michael R. Burch
Here the only anguish
is the bedraggled vetch lying strangled in weeds,
the customary sorrows of the wild persimmons,
the whispered complaints of the stately willow trees
disentangling their fine lank hair,
and what is past.
I find you here, one of many things lost,
that, if we do not recover, will undoubtedly vanish forever ...
now only this unfortunate stone,
this pale, disintegrate mass,
this destiny, this unexpected shiver,
this name we share.
Keywords/Tags: doppelganger, namesake, twin, lookalike, grave, tomb, headstone, inscription, weeds, shiver, recognition, destiny, fate
Apr 8, 2020
Apr 8, 2020 at 5:47 AM UTC
grave request
by Michael R. Burch
come to ur doom
in Tombstone;
the stars stark and chill
over Boot Hill
care nothing for ur desire;
still,
imagine they wish u no ill,
that u burn with the same antique fire;
for there’s nothing to life but the thrill
of living until u expire;
so come, spend ur last hardearned bill
on Tombstone.
Keywords/Tags: Tombstone, Boot Hill, grave, headstone, death, doom, graveyard, morgue, final, payment, resting place
Apr 1, 2020
Apr 1, 2020 at 4:14 AM UTC
I lived as best I could, and then I died.
Be careful where you step: the grave is wide.
Originally published by Romantics Quarterly
Feb 21, 2020
Feb 21, 2020 at 10:51 PM UTC
The Headstone, worn out and fissuring at the edges, stands alone;
Etched deep into the charred rock was a name; one which is now gone.
I glance at the bloodstone, and wonder if they did atone;
Or did they stand stalwart in the mist, and fail to move on?
Did they suffer in silence as the fire cleansed the earth,
Of their meaningless existence? In the end, however, hard they tried,
They indeed did not matter; with no chance of a rebirth
The scorched corpse hovers above ground, yelling
“You are just a grain in the sands of time!
Just like me, desire and fulfillment will pass you by
As the colour which you were born with, leaves your eyes
So your prime shapes itself easily
Into the Fallen remnants of mine.”
Jul 26, 2019
Jul 26, 2019 at 3:15 PM UTC
She asked me what I was living for
And I gave her this confession
In this realm of population
In the sanctum that is living
This world only exist in
The spaces that demand it
Beings who's lives surround
Boundaries required to sustain
Thoughts and queries somehow persist
Against the grain
Pain and longing don't exist outside the brain
Its in this environment, a hostile place
We come face to face with the tantamount lack of grace
Perfection has no enemies because it has no face to hate
Emptiness is something to which each of us relate
Its all enveloped in the great cold distance
Developed in the river swiftly grinding our roots away
Drab and lifeless as a surprising softness sickening and meaningless
Blending together with the coarsest feathers to create the bed on which we lay
In lieu of living organs, please send your deepest thanks
And we both looked down into the grave
A connection in contrast to
The depth of recession all around us
And the ending's always the same
Each and every host finds themselves in a less than stellar place
Every spectacle and spec of plot laden hero
Is slowly digested
Among the monstrosities and grotesque scenery
Something else can take shape
And grow metaphysically
Fake though it may be in the face
Of such bleak uncertainty
Electricity
Sep 19, 2017
Sep 19, 2017 at 5:23 AM UTC
Poetry died today
words and rhymes, dried up
no one saw it coming
not a full, or empty cup
I stand here, at the headstone
the chiseled and etched designs
as no longer any purchase
crude, rude, or ill defined
The planes and trains no longer run
no autos on the road and street
humanity, burned up, and done
art ending, in defeat
Fare thee well, Lord Tennyson
greener pastures , Ms Dickerson
it wasn't the fault of anyone
so much as it was, of everyone
Aug 14, 2017
Aug 14, 2017 at 11:09 AM UTC
Your heart is a daedal
You feel no worth in skin and bone
Your fingernails have carved your name
Into your headstone
As we sat in the shadows
Hand in hand, we walked the maze
Though my eyes had not adjusted,
This is where you spent your days.
So you knew every path and problem there,
With an intimacy I could not tell.
You led me through, though solemn,
Explaining every step as well.
Then one of your demons grabbed you,
As we reached the apogee.
You cried, and though it was darker still,
I could suddenly see.
I saw every tunnel differently
Than I had before,
And I realized why when you left the maze
your skin was always sore.
So I tried to take your demons
But as I tried, your skin would split.
And I realized your demons are part of you
As you are part of it.
And I feel I should be your deliverer,
But I don't know what to do.
How can I defeat your darkness
When your darkness is part of you?
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 12:25 PM UTC
*today
i realized
that every
wall
standing
in my
way
has your
name
carved
into it,
like
headstones
that refuse
to be
forgotten*
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
Dead running through a field.
I've already lost my wind.
My fate's been sealed,
and time's about to blend,
it's time you see midnight
for all it's about.
I hit the dark's height,
and my lights about to drought,
and I'll keep rolling until
the ground underneath
shows the soils riddled
with the signs of grief.
My ****** tears shed my vitality.
This is my never ending reality.
This head stone represents my finality.
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 12:13 AM UTC
We are not a number
Be it test or wage or scale
Ultimately it is only ourselves
That we can choose to fail
They're markings for others
And not indications of our worth
First of which we are given
At our time of birth
When, at last, comes the time
Our final, absolute rest
The second number we are given
At our time of death
We are not a number
Don't take life too fast
Its not about the dates
Its all about the dash
1996-?
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 8:28 AM UTC
She knelt by the dark grey marble headstone
once again on the anniversary
of the day she had happily buried her husband
six feet down in the ground
eight years since she had caused his demise
for a man she did despise!
As the widow gloated behind a false facade
the same figure watched
behind her the deceased husband stood
turning could not see him
thinking once again how good and thrilling
never a suspected killing!
No idea her good life would come to an end
as supernatural forces gathered
this time he followed her back to a plush car
the long dead husband was back
what had changed to allow him the power
to be back at this hour!
Angry sat next to the wife who murdered him
driven back to his own home
familiar items brought back good memories
from when he lived here
now a ghost haunting the house he loved
before down the stairs shoved!
Whether there is a heaven or a place called hell
he had prayed so very hard
from a dark pitiless limbo it changed to hope
now with a new man argued
started by the woman who had meant so much
now he would loath to touch!
****** to the floor berating of him was bored
scrambling to her feet ran
up those familiar stairs shouting more abuse
pursued by this enraged man
like a replay saw her violent death as she fell
her neck broken he could tell!
Instantly was at peace free no longer in turmoil
a tunnel so bright he could see
looking down at her lifeless body he passed on
but a faceless evil took her soul
engulfing it for that overdue journey to hell
righteousness had created this spell!
Jutsice it seems had at last been done!
The Foureyed Poet.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 2:52 PM UTC
Footprints melted into the snow disappear as a new, pure white blanket falls to rest on top. Steam rises from my coffee cup and dissipates into the cold air. I step outside and sigh heavily. It is quiet but I know I am not alone. I hear you in the wind. I feel you as the bitter cold embraces my body. Tiny hairs stand up on my neck underneath my newly short hair. I cut it all off after you left.
I walk four blocks from the coffee shop. I’m not sure where my feet are taking me. I pick a small, fragile flower that is somehow holding on to life in this chilly weather. God knows it’s doing a better job than I am. I turn the corner and suddenly I know exactly where I am. I walk on further and my trembling legs give out. I kneel down and lightly graze the cold, marble stone. It is freezing, but the slightest touch burns me to the core. I read your name about a dozen times. I remember the flower I subconsciously picked. I want to lay it by your stone but my hands wont let go. I think I’ll keep it. I stuff it back into my bag trying my best to preserve its pristine state. Tears freeze on my eyelashes and cling for dear life, causing me to blink rapidly. I look down until I can’t anymore. It's all too much to handle. The wind blows and I follow its path with my eyes. I watch it shudder through the dead branches on the trees. My gaze follows until it is gone... Until you are gone...
I miss you.
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 2:04 PM UTC