Let no man write my epitaph... When my country takes her place among the nations of the earth, then shall my character be vindicated, then may my epitaph be written.
quote by Robert Emmet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Robert Emmet
“Let no man write my epitaph.”
The defiant rebel said.
'Let no woman eulogize me
After I am dead.'
'I give my life for Ireland-
An Ireland strong and free
An Ireland that‘s united,
One free of tyranny.'
'When my country takes its rightful place
Among nations of the world.
That day I will not live to see
When our banner is unfurled.'
'On that day, and only then
Let my suffering be recalled-
and that I died for Liberty-
The sweetest death of all.'
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Let there be no inscription upon my tomb; let no man write my epitaph: no man can write my epitaph.
quote by Robert Emmet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I always remember an epitaph which is in the cemetery at Tombstone, Arizona. It says 'Here lies Jack Williams. He done his damnedest.' I think that is the greatest epitaph a man can have.
quote by Harry Truman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Epitaph on Doctor Donne, Dean of St. Paul's
He that would write an epitaph for thee,
And do it well, must first begin to be
Such as thou wert; for none can truly know
Thy worth, thy life, but he that hath lived so.
He must have wit to spare, and to hurl down;
Enough to keep the gallants of the town.
He must have learning plenty; both the laws,
Civil and common, to judge any cause;
Divinity, great store above the rest,
Not of the last edition, but the best.
He must have language, travel, all the arts,
Judgment to use, or else he want thy parts.
He must have friends the highest, able to do,
Such as Maecenas, and Augustus too.
He must have such a sickness, such a death,
Or else his vain descriptions come beneath.
Who then shall write an epitaph for thee,
He must be dead first! Let it alone, for me.
poem by Richard Corbet
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An Epitaph Of A Collective Grave
Human race,
On soggy lath of its fate,
Writes suicide.
The window of my eye,
Opens to the future.
For the lap of my Earth,
An epitaph of a collective grave
Is being written;
On the head-side of which
A dried lamp is looking to the way
For mustard of its own share.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Myself and the inner mystic music
From my shaky cradle this rare music develops,
Yet no lyrics has written for a sad song.
I get frequent calls and I guess those are from the hell.
They want me to govern there it seems,
But I won't be a President ever as I never been to a war or practiced in a justice court.
I write my own epitaph here; 'This simpleton who sleeps in this abandoned graveyard scribbled half of his life and the manuscript has eaten by parasites.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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And were an epitaph to be my story I'd have a short one ready for my own. I would have written of me on my stone: I had a lover's quarrel with the world.
quote by Robert Frost
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cassius Hueffer
They have Chiseled on my stone the words:
'His life was gentle, and the elements so mixed in him
That nature might stand up and say to all the world,
This was a man.'
Those who knew me smile
As they read this empty rhetoric.
My epitaph should have been:
'Life was not gentle to him,
And the elements so mixed in him
That he made warfare on life,
In the which he was slain.'
While I lived I could not cope with slanderous tongues,
Now that I am dead I must submit to an epitaph
Graven by a fool!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Those who say that life is worth living at any cost have already written an epitaph of infamy, for there is no cause and no person that they will not betray to stay alive.
quote by Sidney Hook
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Naked Girl
When Liberty lies bleeding
And the politicians laugh
Its poets who must rescue her
Or write her epitaph.
When Liberty lay naked, scorned
Upon the cobblestones
I gave my coat to be her robe
And brought her to my home
More dead than alive she seemed
I gave her tea to drink
She shivered at the memory
Of how low some people sink.
“My people once were proud and free”
She shook her head in shame.
“But lately they submit like slaves
To politician’s games”
“The State invades your privacy-
You mutely give assent.
What would Patrick Henry say
opposed to such offense? .”
“My treasury is plundered
By thieves the Banksters sent.
As we sink deeper into debt
Our Dollar’s worth three cents.”
“We borrow billions every day
To fight a faceless foe
Engaged in a “forever” war
As my strength erodes”
When Liberty lies bleeding
And the politicians laugh
Its poets who must rescue her
Or write her epitaph.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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The Assessment
The Assessment
My copy pen fell to the floor I bent down to pick it up
now I feel dizzy. I came to this country, decades ago
to write, many pens have fallen on the floor- although
I do not write with a pen but use a word processor.
A pen is a crutch and to make droll shapes on sheets
of paper; a thousands sheets filled with doodles while
waiting to write something sensible on the processor;
a mad publisher has shown interest in them.
Twenty years feels a very long time, twenty more and
I’ll be ninety bet I will not be able to pick up a pen from
the floor then. Now I wake up in the night and a steady
hum tells me I have wasted my time scrawling, a book
of scribble how is that for an epitaph?
poem by Oskar Hansen
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For Ammonis, who died at 29, in 610
Raphael, they're asking you to write a few lines
as an epitaph for the poet Ammonis:
something very tasteful and polished. You can do it,
you're the one to write something suitable
for the poet Ammonis, our Ammonis.
Of course you'll speak about his poems-
but say something too about his beauty,
about that subtle beauty we loved.
Your Greek is always elegant and musical.
But we want all your craftsmanship now.
Our sorrow and our love move into a foreign language.
Pour your Egyptian feeling into the Greek you use.
Raphael, your verses, you know, should be written
so they contain something of our life within them,
so the rhythm, so every phrase clearly shows
that an Alexandrian is writing about an Alexandrian.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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What the Sexton Said
Your dust will be upon the wind
Within some certain years,
Though you be sealed in lead to-day
Amid the country's tears.
When this idyllic churchyard
Becomes the heart of town,
The place to build garage or inn,
They'll throw your tombstone down.
Your name so dim, so long outworn,
Your bones so near to earth,
Your sturdy kindred dead and gone,
How should men know your worth?
So read upon the runic moon
Man's epitaph, deep-writ.
It says the world is one great grave.
For names it cares no whit.
It tells the folk to live in peace,
And still, in peace, to die.
At least, so speaks the moon to me,
The tombstone of the sky.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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I Don't Know
I don't know what works
in me, when you laugh...
I write on my heart
my own epitaph.
I hear your voice and
then that obsessed I
only think of love,
feeling my long sigh.
When you tell, you won't
leave and miss me lot.
The word possible,
should not stay in thought!
I know, how to nurse,
life, home and hearth first
I hugged my life with
earnest zeal, with thirst.
I can not meet you,
I'll stay far away,
as you are on earth,
I'm on milky way
poem by Nilakshi Das
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Feeling Vindicated
You took to me,
Like fish does to water.
And it was joy,
When my life had order.
But now we've become a mystery.
You take the gold.
Leave me the silver.
No 'beef' do I hold.
My heart is closed and bordered.
And what was is not meant to be!
And I feel vindicated.
To know ahead are my best days.
Yes I feel vindicated.
I stayed and did not cheat.
And I feel vindicated.
Since you strayed away from me.
And I feel vindicated.
To know ahead are my best days.
Yes I feel vindicated.
I stayed and did not cheat.
You took to me,
Like fish does to water.
And it was joy,
When my life had order.
But now we've become a mystery.
And I feel vindicated.
'Cause I believed.
I feel vindicated.
You would never cheat.
And I feel vindicated...
'Cause I was there,
I feel vindicated...
To see your deed.
And I feel vindicated.
'Cause I believed.
I feel vindicated.
You would never cheat.
And I feel vindicated...
'Cause I was there,
I feel vindicated...
To see your deed.
You take the gold.
Cause I feel vindicated
Leave me the silver.
Feeling vindicated.
No 'beef' I hold.
Though I'm feeling vindicated.
My heart is closed,
And bordered.
Since you strayed away from me.
And now we've become a mystery.
You take the gold.
Cause I feel vindicated
Leave me the silver.
Feeling vindicated.
No 'beef' I hold.
Though I'm feeling vindicated.
My heart is closed...
Since you strayed away from me.
And now we've become a mystery.
And I'm feeling vidicated,
No 'beef' I hold.
I'm feeling vidicated.
My eyes believe.
Feeling vindicated.
That truth is told.
And my heart,
No longer grieves.
You took to me,
Like fish to water.
And it was joy,
When my life had order.
But now we've become a mystery.
And my heart,
No longer grieves.
And I'm...
Feeling vindicated.
Yes I guess I'm,
Feeling vindicated.
And I and I...
Feel vindicated.
Yes I guess I'm,
Feeling vindicated.
And I and I...
Feel vindicated.
Yes I guess I'm,
Feeling vindicated.
And I and I...
Feel vindicated.
And I and I...
Feel vindicated.
And we leave,
Without the risk of rifts.
Feeling vindicated,
And we leave knowing this is it!
And I and I...
Feel vindicated.
Yes I guess I'm,
Feeling vindicated.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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She Built A New House
she built a new house
on top of a hill
she had it painted
and it looks like a grass
she installed a narrow door
and a cross in the middle
she is old
and i know she wanted
a tomb
a mausoleum
she wants me to write
a letter
and with all these
what i wrote sounded more
like a epitaph for
her
i remember this
'here lies
the body of a woman
untouched'
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Vindicated
Vindicated!
When you've been vindicated,
There's a feeling that is felt this is elated.
When you've been vindicated,
From those acts that can decay...
There's a weigh that lifts and chases blues away.
When you've been accused,
By other people for things you did not do...
There's a weigh that lifts and chases blues away.
Tossing and turning and can't sleep,
By those deceivers planning defeat...
There's a weigh that lifts and chases blues away.
When you've been depicted to be a fool,
By others who wish to undo you...
There's a weigh that lifts and chases blues away.
Vindicated!
When you've been vindicated,
There's a feeling that is felt this is elated.
When you've been vindicated,
From those acts that can decay...
There's a weigh that lifts and chases blues away.
Vin-di-cated!
When you've been vindicated,
There's a weigh that lifts and chases blues away.
Vin-di-cated!
When you've been vindicated,
There's a weigh that lifts and chases blues away.
Vin-di-cated!
When you've been vindicated,
There's a weigh that lifts and chases blues away.
Vin-di-cated!
When you've been vindicated,
There's a weigh that lifts and chases blues away.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Maybe I Was Damon In A Past Life
Maybe I was Damon Runyon in a past time
he died at age 66 which was the year I began my life.
I also write about someone I call the 'Guy'
who maybe is kind of shy.
Damon wrote a play with Dolls & Guys
which was acted out in NYC—very true-not a lie.
I write about a Doll
who is cute and kind of small.
Damon also named his pet _____
almost like mine.
I write about a character with letter
beginning with N—
he was only a sponsor to me—
he wanted to be more than friends—
Just like Damon-
who writes about characters where
he actually supported them
in his writing he actually defends.
Damon also writes about baseball
I don't know baseball at all.
I am more of a poet who story-tells-
I write of the doll character nicknamed Mel.
See baseball is not my cup of tea—
but to Damon he was famous for
being a reporter known around the country.
He even wrote a character named Sarah Brown
I have a character Sarah who lives by a clown.
Little Miss Marker was a play he wrote-
I wrote a poem Little Miss Melodie who sings a note.
His grandfather was from New Jersey just like me
I see a lot of similarities-
Written by Suzae Chevalier on March 17,2012
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Maybe I Was Damon In A Past Life
Maybe I was Damon Runyon in a past time
he died at age 66 which was the year I began my life.
I also write about someone I call the "Guy"
who maybe is kind of shy.
Damon wrote a play with Dolls & Guys
which was acted out in NYC—very true-not a lie.
I write about a Doll
who is cute and kind of small.
Damon also named his pet _____
almost like mine.
I write about a character with letter
beginning with N—
he was only a sponsor to me—
he wanted to be more than friends—
Just like Damon-
who writes about characters where
he actually supported them
in his writing he actually defends.
Damon also writes about baseball
I don't know baseball at all.
I am more of a poet who story-tells-
I write of the doll character nicknamed Mel.
See baseball is not my cup of tea—
but to Damon he was famous for
being a reporter known around the country.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on March 17,2012
poem by Christina Sunrise
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It's Great To Be An Actress!
Yes, it's great to be an actress - in fact, it's fun-derbar!
And with a measure of success, perhaps I'll be a star!
To wear the finest clothes on Earth like catwalk models do,
Can give a girl a sense of worth to thrill you through and through!
To talk in accents not your own is quite 'der challenge' yet,
It's up to you, your skills to hone! Get all that's there to get!
Portray in every way you can the character within...
That's how to please the fervent fan who wills you on to win!
Perform in plays and tv shows, plus adverts, films and such!
Make friends with amateurs and pros - each one can teach so much!
Success or failure! Come what may! An actress I will be!
You'll watch me on tv, one day! Yes, just you wait and see!
You'll beg me for my autograph, signed pictures and much more!
Yet when I'm gone, my epitaph will simply say, 'ENCORE! '
poem by Denis Martindale
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