The memory of most men is an abandoned cemetery where lie, unsung and unhonored, the dead whom they have ceased to cherish. Any lasting grief is reproof to their neglect.
Marguerite Yourcenar in Memoirs of Hadrian
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes
Old books that have ceased to be of service should no more be abandoned than should old friends who have ceased to give pleasure.
quote by Bernard Baruch
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Worship Of Greatness
The worship of Greatness
My lifelong sin
Will be taken with me to the grave-
I loved my father too much
For whom his own Greatness
Or more
Failure in achieving it
Was all and all.
And I his would – be justifier and redeemer
I too in the lifelong tilting at windmills
Now ready to go down to my final and forever silence
Wept perhaps, but more
Unhonored and unsung.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Cherish
Cherish
those who are close to you
before they go away.
Cherish
all your memories
in case they fade someday.
Cherish
each day you have,
treat it as your last.
Cherish
everything you have
ensuring they never get lost.
Cherish
every moment
as if it maybe your last.
Cherish
everything you possess,
as you might never get it again.
Cherish
your life,
as it is the only one you got.
Cherish
your health
if it fails you will fade away.
Cherish
the love of others
and return it equally.
But most of all
cherish everything.
18 January 2008
poem by David Harris
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Cemetery Drive
cemetery drive,
covered in mist,
driving down the road,
so cold,
the crypts and tombstones cast dark shadow,
the bats and the wind,
grimly howl,
cemetery drive,
a place of shadow,
cemetery drive,
tall dead trees,
comfort the dead,
black roses grow along the road,
they fight the cold,
and give the living hope,
the living hope their hearts never stop,
and they'll never have to call cemetery drive home,
and tend to the shadows and black roses
poem by Catie Belle Stark
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I live and will die by you
It is my memory of you
That kindles my spirit.
It is the same memory
That swindles my heart.
My head is full with your thought.
My bed is sore from the same thought.
Day by day pain aggravates;
The same way does my plight.
It is my memory of you
That gives me joy.
It is the same memory
That sends me to sorrow.
You throw on me the day and the night.
I enjoy both in different lights.
I cherish you in my memory;
I may perish from the same memory
29.11.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A grief ago
'There is no grief
which time does not lessen
or soften' -
so said Cicero, a man so often right;
a Stoic, those for whom
all life presents a lesson
to be learned from,
and then, to move on from..
But I wonder about all this:
is grief ever lessened or softened?
Is it not, perhaps, overlaid
in our so various ways?
For some, grief framed and falsified
to ease that grief;
For some, like hyacinths and crocus bulbs,
left in a dark cupboard in the autumn of our grief
to respond to time, and
become at last
themselves?
gently, gently, the covers pulled
over the loving bed,
the true, the pure, the lovely painful grief,
the memory deep cherished,
gently, gently, folded
into the cupboards of the heart
there to be known, without the door disturbed
until the time - 'a grief ago' as Dylan wrote -
the cupboard opened only for love's sake
without grief...:
those carefully folded memories
brought out and loved
and lived a while...
not grief, not grief...but
the pure memory of grief
and behold,
life.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Little Old Lady in Lavender Silk
I was seventy-seven, come August,
I shall shortly be losing my bloom;
I've experienced zephyr and raw gust
And (symbolical) flood and simoom.
When you come to this time of abatement,
To this passing from Summer to Fall,
It is manners to issue a statement
As to what you got out of it all.
So I'll say, though reflection unnerves me
And pronouncements I dodge as I can,
That I think (if my memory serves me)
There was nothing more fun than a man!
In my youth, when the crescent was too wan
To embarrass with beams from above,
By the aid of some local Don Juan
I fell into the habit of love.
And I learned how to kiss and be merry- an
Education left better unsung.
My neglect of the waters Pierian
Was a scandal, when Grandma was young.
Though the shabby unbalanced the splendid,
And the bitter outmeasured the sweet,
I should certainly do as I then did,
Were I given the chance to repeat.
For contrition is hollow and wraithful,
And regret is no part of my plan,
And I think (if my memory's faithful)
There was nothing more fun than a man!
poem by Dorothy Parker
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Ever Lasting Glance
'Ever lasting glance '
In moments of grief,
when my heart feel pangs
with throbbing fear
burning like wild fire
I think
where I am born without fate
on bosom of the earth
constantly drowning in sea of wrath
It is only your ever lasting glance
on my passion ground
which makes me remind
surreptitious first stolen kiss
i feel my soul trembling
with the tender touch of the veiled beloved
the fleeting effect wins my heart
I often think in profundity
I am alone but eternal
with your ever lasting Glance
ever lasting glance
poem by Seema Gupta
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The Cemetery of Hearts
It was a Cemetery of Hearts
laid out in neat rectangular squares
tombstone engravings of individual stories;
of loves lost and betrayed,
tear-ravaged love trysts.
love cuts, severed
or grief-laden,
all buried in Innocent's Ground
from whence they came.
I peered at the writing on first tombstone and then some others:
'He led me on and then made love to my mother
all this to me unknown.' one said
'I died in childbirth alone after having been exiled
from my home to a nunnery.'
'She plotted against me with my best friend.'
'She told me the baby was mine.'
'I died of grief in a sex war and of an affection-less marriage.'
My love and I were shot lying together.'
One said:
'Dead hearts murdered by rage or fear are the worst;
these hearts die gnarled and alone.'
The caretaker addressed me:
'What are you doing here? ' he said.
'I came to bury my heart with the rest of them.' I said.
'Really he said. Let me have a look.
This heart, ' he said is not really dead.
'I can't bury a heart that is yet alive.
that would be murder and wrong;
away with you.
You are premature. Go. Take this heart
and feed it, make it live again.'
I was shocked. To me this rejection was
yet another heart-ache to endure.
'My heart is not dead enough? ' I said.
'That's right, ' he said, yours is merely slightly used
and a little bruised but not dead.'
'
This cemetery is Innocent Ground,
a healing place for deceased hearts,
not ones merely tired and bruised.'
'Go back out there, take some courage from this dream.
The sores on your heart will heal
and be stronger then
for someone else you'll meet.
'You are stronger than you think.
We are really short of space here
we take only the really bad heart cases.'
'Go he said
dive right back in.'
He was right.
'And, ' he said
'Never underestimate the human heart;
it is the human brain that most times
that's wrong and prematurely deceased.'
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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A Jewish Cemetery In Germany
On a little hill amid fertile fields lies a small cemetery,
a Jewish cemetery behind a rusty gate, hidden by shrubs,
abandoned and forgotten. Neither the sound of prayer
nor the voice of lamentation is heard there
for the dead praise not the Lord.
Only the voices of our children ring out, seeking graves
and cheering
each time they find one--like mushrooms in the forest, like
wild strawberries.
Here's another grave! There's the name of my mother's
mothers, and a name from the last century. And here's a name,
and there! And as I was about to brush the moss from the name--
Look! an open hand engraved on the tombstone, the grave
of a kohen,
his fingers splayed in a spasm of holiness and blessing,
and here's a grave concealed by a thicket of berries
that has to be brushed aside like a shock of hair
from the face of a beautiful beloved woman.
Translated by Chana Bloch and Chana Kronfeld
poem by Yehuda Amichai
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Love Cherish Love
If you have a Love
That feels the same for you
Cherish this Love
For you will never be blue
If you have a Love
Who is thankful & grateful
Cherish this Love
For she will always be plentiful
If you have a Love
Who has grace & style
Cherish this Love
For you will have the grandest smile
If you have a Love
Who rises like Sunshine
Cherish this Love
For she is pure, true & divine
If you have a Love
Who dreams like Midnight
Cherish this Love
For she will always do you right
If you have a Love
Who inhances like Spring
Cherish this Love
For the Bluebirds will forever sing
If you have a Love
Who is as bright as a Star
Cherish this Love
For she will carry you very far
(1/14/09)
poem by Arthur Garcia
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For then only will you be strong, when you cherish the laws, and when the revolutionary attempts of lawless men shall have ceased.
Cemetery In My Mind
Locked in the mall in a state of fright
Looking for salvation in a car headlight
But you cant have what you cant buy
Tomorrow is better than yesterday,
Tomorrow is better than today,
Tomorrow is better than yesterday they say
Cemetery in my mind
Cemetery in my mind
This must be my time
Wake work drink sleep retire
Tide comes up way too high
You can fall but can you rise
Cemetery in my mind,
You can fall but can you rise
Theres no pulse no sign of life,
Cemetery in my mind.
song performed by by Midnight Oil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Democratic Party has pretty much abandoned all the things that they cherish.
quote by Dick Armey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soothing graves
one thing about grave
about the cemetery that i like
they are all so real, real as death
and the people who come visiting
they come with their real self
laugh, smile or tears they are
all so reall, for there is no more need
to fake one's feeling, put on a face
everything is now known to the dead
or remains forever unknown
there is a quietness in the grave
and the cemetery that i like
it is the ingratiating quietness
that is so soothing to the soul
the calm acceptance of life
that to die is also a part of living
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Just love the Cemetery
one thing about grave
about the cemetery that i like
they are all so real, real as death
and the people who come visiting
they come with their real self
laugh, smile or tears they are
all so reall, for there is no more need
to fake one's feeling, put on a face
everything is now known to the dead
or remains forever unknown
there is a quietness in the grave
and the cemetery that i like
it is the ingratiating quietness
that is so soothing to the soul
the calm acceptance of life
that to die is also a part of living
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Drowning In My Memory
I wanna hear your voice
I wanna see your face
But my memory
My memory is fading
I just wanna be there
To see your suffering
To hold your hand
And know how to say sorry
I would cherish your tears
To me they’d be gold
But my eyes are failing
But my heart is starting to beat
I’ll reach out to you
To you through this fog
But then your sweet smile frowns
And in my memory you begin to drown
poem by Chloe Poppins
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You Might Know A Hero...
Many have been wounded on the
battlefield of life. Wounded, in
their homes, streets and back
alleys of social interaction.
In the battle to survive, are there
more formidable enemies, than
grief, loneliness, illness, poverty,
and lost love?
So many, although seemingly
defeated, by an army of foes,
to opposition of life and living,
fight...go on.
Countless millions, are wounded by
emotional bullets...lethal grenades
of death, taking a loved one... and the
machine gun fire, of cancer and
other devastating diseases.
Yet, with a courage that can not be
measured, these unsung heroes
.go on.
Let there be a Congressional Medal
Of Honor, for life, for those unsung
heroes and their unyielding courage. Let
them know, in their time of need,
we shall provide them with, they emotional
medicine and care they require.
Love, compassion and understanding.
The next time, the word 'hero' is spoken,
look around, for on the battlefield of
life, there are millions, 'of unsung heros.'
Unsung Heros
Many have been wounded on the
battlefield of life. Wounded, in
their homes, streets and back
alleys of social interaction.
In the battle to survive, are there
more formidable enemies, than
grief, loneliness, illness, poverty,
and lost love?
So many, although seemingly
defeated, by an army of foes,
to opposition of life and living,
they fight...go on.
Countless millions, are wounded by
emotional bullets...lethal grenades
of death, taking a loved one... and the
machine gun fire, of cancer and
other devastating diseases.
Yet, with a courage that can not be
measured, these unsung heroes
...go on.
Let there be a Congressional Medal
Of Honor, for life, for those unsung
heroes and their unyielding courage. Let
them know, in their time of need,
we shall provide them with, they emotional
medicine and care they require.
Love, compassion and understanding.
The next time, the word 'hero' is spoken,
look around, for on the battlefield of
life, there are millions, 'of unsung heros.'
The Battle Field Of Life
Many have been wounded on the
battlefield of life. Wounded, in
their homes, streets and back
alleys of social interaction.
In the battle to survive, are there
more formidable enemies, than
grief, loneliness, illness, poverty,
and lost love?
So many, although seemingly
defeated, by an army of foes,
to opposition of life and living,
they fight...go on.
Countless millions, are wounded by
emotional bullets...lethal grenades
of death, taking a loved one... and the
machine gun fire, of cancer and
other devastating diseases.
Yet, with a courage that can not be
measured, these unsung heroes
..go on.
Let there be a Congressional Medal
Of Honor, for life, for those unsung
heroes and their unyielding courage. Let
them know, in their time of need,
we shall provide them with, they emotional
medicine and care they require.
Love, compassion and understanding.
The next time, the word 'hero' is spoken,
look around, for on the battlefield of
life, there are millions, 'of unsung hero's.'