#mausoleum
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
Mar 29, 2020
Mar 29, 2020 at 11:24 PM UTC
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
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 6:37 AM UTC
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,
“Before.”
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?
“Right?”
Just what the hell is,” right?”
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 9:12 AM UTC
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.
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 9:47 PM UTC
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.
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 4:42 PM UTC
*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"*
31/7/2014
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 10:23 AM UTC