#marker
My Epitaph
by Michael R. Burch
Do not weep for me, when I am gone.
I lived, and ate my fill, and gorged on life.
You will not find beneath this glossy stone
the man who sowed and reaped and gathered days
like flowers, well aware they would not keep.
Go lightly then, and leave me to my sleep.
Keywords/Tags: epitaph, epigram, death, grave, stone, marker, nameplate, tombstone, inscription, life, days, flowers, sleep
Apr 3, 2020
Apr 3, 2020 at 11:52 PM UTC
I thought your eyes I could dismiss,
And your smile I wouldn't miss,
But I still feel your lips
Giving me a permanent marker kiss
Oct 22, 2019
Oct 22, 2019 at 11:09 AM UTC
Smudged ink,
Written poems.
No one to think,
No one to know them.
Dabbed on paper,
With permanent marker.
Save them for later,
When times get harder.
Emotions in words,
Feelings in letters.
Someone gets worse,
Someone gets better.
They may be burned,
But not from our hearts.
We may have learned,
But end up scarred.
Poems draw us near,
Poems draw us close.
Stricken with fear,
Lost in our zone.
Only we know their meaning,
Only we know their story.
They keep us dreaming,
They keep us wondering.
We know these words,
We know them by heart.
We hold their worth,
We know their parts.
Dec 2, 2017
Dec 2, 2017 at 5:01 PM UTC
There was an old wreck-marker from Fowey,
Who had been at sea since he was a buoy,
But when his mooring wore through,
He went where the wind blew,
Ending his days on the beach - as a toy.
Aug 21, 2017
Aug 21, 2017 at 2:27 PM UTC
How many times
Can I draw on my arms
With sharpie
To prevent me
From hurting myself?
I've found new ways
To induce pain.
I smoke.
I drink too much.
I search for love in others
Who want nothing to do with me.
These black lines
Along my forearms
Do not shield me from pain
Like I wished they would.
They only mask
My fear.
Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 4:45 PM UTC
Going on a road trip
Something for my soul
It's gonna take a while
But, it's gonna make me whole
I'm going to cross the country
But, I'll start on both the coasts
I've been in too many bottles
Have to exorcise some ghosts
Mile Marker Three Three Three Nine
That's where the dream did end
Mile Marker Three Three Three Nine
That's where I'll start to mend
Greyhound bus out of the east
From the Maritimes my son
I'll venture through Quebec as well
This is journey number one
I'll stop and meet the people
Get their stories, of the man
I'll find the ones who met him
Try to learn just what I can
Adversity, I've had my share
Always tried self medication
Now, I need to find myself
This will take some dedication
I'll head on through Ontario
On the Trans Canada Highway route
And I'll try lose my demons
Give my devils all the boot
Brick by brick I'll bring down the walls
That over years I've built
Bricks made up of hate and rage
by love, and fear and guilt
From the west, I'll make my way
Do the highway he could not
Through the rocky mountains
Every mile is hard fought
I'll learn about the person
Who he was and who I am
I'll come through the fire stronger
I'll be a much better man
I will bus across the prairies
Through the Manitoba cold
I will focus on my endgame
I'll learn from what I'm told
Two journeys I will travel
Neither one from coast to coast
But, both are to be ended
by that famous mile post
Maybe I can find the answer
Join myself, go through the door
As he joined a nation
So many years before
Mile Marker Three Three Three Nine
That's where my journey ends
Mile Marker Three Three Three Nine
That's where I'll start to mend
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 12:16 AM UTC
i'm standing by the marker stone
feeling wind upon my face
listening to the echoes from the grave
i feel the tears freeze on my cheeks
from the wind upon my face
as i listen to the echoes from the grave
I'm in a darkened corner of the graveyard
It's overgrown and not well kept
It's been a long time since a visitor
Has on these markers wept
I feel the spirits all around me here
I hear their voices on the wind
There is not a single angel here
These are souls who all have sinned
The grass has grown halfway up the stone
You see the name but not the years
It's been decades since any marker here
Has been whetted down with tears
I tend the grass and **** growth
Cut it back right to the ground
And except for ghostly echoes
I do not hear a sound
The man here was my father once
Though I don't recall his face
But, here he lies, worm food and dust
In this long forgotten place
The voices of other souls do float
Waiting for someone to show
But, their families died out years back
And those left, they do not know
I hear them as they call out names
Frozen snippets lost in time
And though I am on my father's grave
Nobody calls out mine
i'm standing by the marker stone
feeling wind upon my face
listening to the echoes from the grave
i feel the tears freeze on my cheeks
from the wind upon my face
as i listen to the echoes from the grave
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 6:42 PM UTC