En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Graveyard

The eyes of the dark
Which see through the dimly lit full moon
The snowy flakes,
Covers the graveyard which wakes
The cracking of lids
The wooden carved coffins underground

Some opened up,
Horrors stood up, stretched and bent
With all their waiting there came the end
The lonely graveyard,
Now filled with unseen shadows
Approaching hot living blood
The clinking of chains, hanging from hands
The one-eyed pirates, dirty and torn
They were white, outlined black
With fearful groans, this enjoyed pain

So the graveyard awoke
No fiction at all…
Fearful horrors, they waited so long
For the some that needed to be paid
Some which caused their fearful deaths
The shaken up minds, heart broken men,
By spoiling so some lived, closing the gaps
Fury rose up from them, head to foot
What they accepted was beyond dreams
They will kill, let them
If you shield the culprits, you will be next

So they took off, be aware
The eyes of the dark following them
But when would they return?
After those terrible deaths they suffered
The sounds grew louder, when they approached farther
The clinking and groaning still behind them

January 2008

[DECEMBER 26TH 2004.

I KEPT THE HORRIBLE SCENES OF THE TSUNAMI WAVES. WHILE
LEAVING MY HOMETOWN, I SAW WHAT THE SEA DID TO THE BEAUTIFUL SHORE AND TO THE PEOPLE. THE BEAUTIFUL SHORE BECAME A GRAVEYARD THAT DAY. NOT SLEEPING IN PEACE WAS 150 PEOPLE. THE ONES WHO WERE CHEATED BY THE SEA. THE SCENES OF THE BODIES BEING BURNED WAS A HORRIBLE SIGHT. AND I HAVE KEPT THAT ALL MY LIFE AND THIS IS WHAT CAME THROUGH MY WORDS. THE HORRORS SEEKING REVENGE. BUT WHAT TO DO TO NATURE? ? ? ]

© Copyright Aiswarya T Anish, Kerala, India

poem by Aiswarya T. Anish
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The Graveyard In The Sky Ii

Dad's, mothers, grandmothers, grandfathers, brother, sisters, aunt, and Uncles died at their home here on earth some time ago
And then they were all buried in the graveyard in the sky
But there in the sky nobody steals the grave in the graveyard
Also there are trees in the graveyard in the sky and flowers inthe garden
But the road that takes to the graveyard in the sky is paved
And sometimes you will see the memonights in their horse carriages Passing by

poem by Aldo Kraas
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The Graveyard In The Sky

Dad's, mothers, grandmothers, grandfathers, brother, sisters, aunt, and Uncles died at their home here on earth some time ago
And then they were all buried in the graveyard in the sky
But their in the sky nobody steals the grave in the graveyard
Also there are trees in the graveyard in the sky and flowers inthe garden
But the road that takes to the graveyard in the sky is paved
And sometimes you will see the memonights in their horse carriages Passing by

poem by Aldo Kraas
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Graveyard

I drowned in the mud of past
Marsh that pushes me to the bottom slowly
To the life without new breath
Flower and stone, have you buried me well?
Soil and tears, just bring me something
I'm no longer chasing the sun I wait
And the rain long doesn't come
I'm lying in the white mass, green grass
Flower and stone, there is nothing to show
Soil and tears, blackeyes my funeral
Graveyard, graveyard
Give me tender, give me a kiss
Before it's too late, like miss
Graveyard, graveyard
My life's gone like a falling leaf
But at least I lived, for my belief

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Life in Winter's Graveyard

Walking down a muddy road
In the throes of December
Heaving through the decay
Of Spring's now frozen embers
Is there life in Winter's graveyard?

Frozen trees bereft of leaves
Stand upright in frosted death
Fields once ripe and lush with fruit
Lay still without the Summer's breath
Is there life in Winter's graveyard?

Soggy soil sloshing below my feet
Autumn's leaves have been swept away
And while I march on viciously
My eyes behold only death and gray
Is there life in Winter's graveyard?

Then comes a patch of greenery
A lush, though simple, paradise
I stop to gaze at the loveliness
Beheld before beauty-starved eyes
There is life in Winter's graveyard.

A patch of three-leaved charms
Circling the base of a withered tree
I gaze at this Springtime green
Surrounded by December's villainy.
There is life in Winter's graveyard.

Though Winter's tomb encases
Our world in a carcass' masquerade
This patch of sought-for greenery
Removes the masks from Death's charade
There is life in Winter's graveyard.

poem by Josephine J.W
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To Die In Vain

When they lie me in my grave
Will I had done a lot of living
Or will the people just look and say
That I had done a lot of grieving.
And on my tomb what will be wrote
Will it just be a name,
With words that many had spoke
Saying that I had died in vain.

Through a graveyard as I stroll
I read many a lonesome name
That's all I see that's all that is wrote
I guess too, they died in vain.
No living for them had they done
No feats of greatness have they achieved
So now they are hid beneath the sun
As though they never had lived.
A name on marble a heart with no soul
It equals to about the same
For one does die, the other survives
And they both just lived in vain.
A tarnished tomb I do see
Forgotten by the years gone by
So beside it I will kneel and pray
For is that how I will die.

Then the graveyard I do leave
Mournful, bitter and shamed
Now no longer will I sit and grieve
For I WILL NOT! , die in vain.
So when they lay me in the ground
I now know what the people will say
They all will make a joyful sound
While saying, I lived and enjoyed everyday.

poem by Randy McClave
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Why you so inquisitive of my whereabouts?

My night school's still dark
and the road I walk
Tar always black!
On the way,
I see rare night flowers,
They too have pearly white teeth
when they smile?
O the white Goddess
as passing clouds.
The white board in the gloomy class
Colored teacher writes on
with a piece of black chalk
A poem to recite;
'When forget-me-not
covers the old pauper's graveyard
Everybody thinks
It's the garden of Eden?
But in cruel Autumn
When the flowers withered
It's still the pauper's graveyard? '

[ From Father have I my stature,
my zest for earnest living;
From little Mother
my gay nature,
My love of story-telling.]-Goethe

nimal dunuhinga

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Bloody Eyes (Sonnet)

Deep in the darkness horrors lurk
Horrors of a homophobic racist jerk
Horrors of a life destroyed by family
Horrors of person who wanders idly
In the darkness there is no hope
For he has wrapped his neck with that rope
He is prejudice and mean to others
But to me he is like my only brother

I love that jerk to pieces, he can be so kind
I love his bravery, his intuitive mind
But in his darkness I see such pain
He thinks in life there is nothing to gain
My wonderfully horrible cousin doesn’t cry
Instead I see a trickle of blood in his eye

poem by Lenore Lee
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Winter's Spell

WINTER'S SPELL

Ended, hence, the glorious time of the sun’s lifespan,
The trees were fully clothed, in leaves
Resilient, they had sung merrily
But now, all had gone…
With deserts of sadness …..
What can a ball of cheese do?
Up from the sky…
If it cannot fill the tummy of a poor man...
The Moon covers the Earth down
Looking down at the rows of naked trees
With only a memory of leaves
Nipped by the frost, they want to be freed…
Ended up in the desolate stretches of snow
Eyes begged to see a scrap of light
But what it touched was a bare white Earth
His pale hands overworked
With no snow dogs they grieved...
And his legs were totally numb
With not even a sledge to slide through…
He was the only piece of life…
In the land of the white
With just a star to guide him north
Who put a spell on his fortune?
Who gave him this curse?
He shoved himself through the ice
Bewildered of his unpleasant fate
And at last his eyes found it for him
And far across, from the spells boundary
Stood a welcoming light for him
He ran with all his might
The home emerged larger
Running for food and shelter
He ran and looked through the windows
Marvellously lit decorated
Sat there in an armchair, a woman, old
With shelves of homemade thoughts to dust through
He knocked to get in
Opened it was by the women,
Bewitchingly beautiful, she was
The smile made melt down the things around
And he got in, leaving behind the spell
To live with her forever and ever and ever
That was the end of his fate
And from the windows he looked,
To see the moon smile…
26/09/08

© Copyright Aiswarya T Anish, Kerala, India

poem by Aiswarya T. Anish
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I Am Proud To Say

the horrors
of life, we were
there to confront
all the horrors
of life,
at first it was
a struggle to be
free
and then it is not
anymore
it has become
a lifestyle
and so we get
used to all
these horrors
and they are not
horrors anymore
they become
facts that we
face everyday
without anymore
the fear
these everyday
every minute
we conquer them
with nothing
but a blank face
this numbness
that chews
what seemingly
is horrible
at first but now
they have become
us.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Written In Native Soil

Which is your favorite place on Earth? Hears mine........

The sun promised a charming dawn every dusk,
And went off for a nap in his husk
And lilies never forget to bloom,
Driving away numerous gloom
I see my hometown, standing proudly
Shielded by the sea and the lake, so lovely
Words deny painting her beauty
Paints are scanty to colour her liveliness
God’s own hand sewn stunning dress
Calmness prevails, peace rules
Striking tiaras, green hues

Breezes fan her, beauty shines
Waters wash her, sunshine dries,
When I breathe in the salty air,
I hear the winds chant hymns, everyone care
The sun kisses the sea, the moon’s seen
A synonym of Juno’s mien…
Lying on a glowing bed, an infinite sea
Stars keep company, an urge to live free

I bike down the road,
It takes me on its own accord.
The winds tickling my face, the waves coil
I lay down on the shiny black soil
Waves splashing on my feet, sun on my face
Time forgets to keep its pace
Good natured people, with hearts of gold,
I see them do their afternoon chores

If ever, the big boys in heaven,
Send a shooting star, across the skies,
What I’d wish is to
Keep my hometown the way she is
This is where my heart lies
Hometown……

16th April 2009

© Copyright Aiswarya T Anish, Kerala, India

poem by Aiswarya T. Anish
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EYE (i) MONSTER

Last night, I saw a monster.
First it was just a shadow
By degrees it became clearer and clearer
Finally it stood out
Clear as clear can be.

Handless it was, really handless
With a shock I knew
That it was legless too
Yet, it was standing straighter than straight
In lieu of a head, all it had
Was an eye unconnected with its body
A most grotesque figure indeed

I was floored, was rolling on all fours
Thought the monster had me down
My eye shutters were shut tight
And a great struggle I undergone opening them
No sooner the shutters fell open
The monster had vanished
In its place I saw an ‘ i ’
In the book that had me sleep awhile.

Aiswarya.T.Anish
2004

(I wrote this when I was studying in 3rd standard. When I was studying my lessons I had this eye monster trapped in my mind. I modified this after a while.)

© Copyright Aiswarya T Anish, Kerala, India

poem by Aiswarya T. Anish
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Only One Horrible Thorn

I like to cry and throw a fit
Even the dark day I was born
I am a sad and drooping rose
With only one horrible thorn

I did not like people around
I would sit, curse at them and scorn
I am a sad and drooping rose
With only one horrible thorn

My heart could never feel the love
Deep inside I felt sad and torn
I am a sad and drooping rose
With only one horrible thorn

People still tried to get close to me
I would open my mouth and warn
I am a sad and drooping rose
With only one horrible thorn

I will never show a smile
This is an oath that I have sworn
I am a sad and drooping rose
With only one horrible thorn

But the day will come, I will die
Then haunt people after they mourn
I am a sad and drooping rose
With only one horrible thorn

poem by Paul Celano
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Halloween Quartet No 1 Graveyard Special

Standing at the bus stop waiting,
when the stranger asked.
“Has anyone seen the Graveyard Special?
I hope I haven’t missed it
or they won’t let me out next year.”
I shook my head and said. “Sorry, no.”
The stranger turned to me.
He wore a tuxedo, bow tie and patent polished shoes.
He looked like a dancer
and an odd smell rose around him
that of rotting decay.
“Been a nice night, hasn’t it.”
“Yes, but they forecast rain.”
“Been out with your girlfriend
and now catching the last bus home? ”
“No, I haven’t got one.”
A cloud passed across the moon
and the strangers face became partially visible
under the pale light of the moon.
A pale face with a sullen look
engraved with hard shadows.
“Going home? ” I asked,
“Yes, we are only allowed out once a year.”
“You live in an old people’s home? ”
“Something like that.” Returned a whispery reply.
A mist descended and swirled around us.
“My bus I can see it.”
The mist became thicker swallowing us up.
The brightly lit bus stopped,
its destination board read Graveyard Special.
The stranger got on and the bus doors shut.
Into the mist, it went to be swallowed up.
The mist then evaporated as quickly as it came.
My bus arrived and as I paid my ticket I remarked.
“I didn’t know the bus company
put on a special bus just for Halloween.”
The driver shook his head and said.
“They don’t, that bus is for the dead ones
who get out once a year.
I have been following it on its route
as it picks them up one by one
to take them back before
the first streaks of dawn appear in the sky.
It takes them back to the graveyard
for another year to stay.”
Getting my ticket, I sat
my hands trembling at the thought
that I had spoken to a ghost.

poem by David Harris
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Oh! Flower, I Feel Sorry For You! ! !

I saw a nice little flower…
Enjoying herself in the nice warm fields…
The place felt fine, what a beautiful sight! !
Why didn’t it come yesterday? !
But the joy didn’t last long enough…what a pity!
‘Cause the flower was plucked away! ! !
It was no longer there
So was the beauty
How gloomy the place felt now for sight! !
Why do flowers bloom, if it has to be murdered this way? ?
Still, they bloom, though they die so prematurely…
But to beautify the Earth! !
Why do we hurt these little things, who give us joy? ?
They are the ones who blooms happiness to the world
Aren’t we too bound to be blossomed into flowers of happiness? ? ?
Oh Flower! ! I feel sorry for you! !
Can you be born again? ?
If I could, I would’ve fixed you into yourself again
But powerless I am…powerless except for eyes that are blind, but see evil thoughts
Why doesn’t man think before his acts? ?
Why doesn't he care about his fellow creatures? ? ?

2006

(Do you think before you act? Such as, when you pick a flower? Do you enjoy the beauty and DO YOU throw it away in the trash? Do you ever think of other people who may also enjoy the beauty?)

© Copyright Aiswarya T Anish, Kerala, India

poem by Aiswarya T. Anish
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The Great Valuable Gift On Christmas Day

“Wow! It’s Christmas, happiness coming
Now for the gift welcoming loving
Then to the church to bow before God
And to the market to buy me a gift
I have the fifty cents all for myself”
Fanny jumped happily, she ran out to shop.

Dancing and skipping she went on her way
Across holy Churches,
Across lit up houses
Across snow laden parks and snowy canals
Gardening, sweating
She had made her money.

“I want a present,
A present I want,
I had a hard time to earn these
Christmas is the best time to forget it all”
She cried out with joy,
To the man in the shop

Beautiful pastries and plum cakes a fresh
Packed up in boxes
She left from the shop
But lo! At the end of the street, she did see
A young dainty lady, holding her child
Sobbing away at the plight so sad

Tired she looked, unhappy too
For her baby was sick and hungry too
Fanny stood still and thought for a while
Then the gift to the child, she smilingly gave
The two of them,
Very grateful now, went on their way to their cold little home

Blessed is the child,
Who gift from the heart
Rest she will ever in the arm of her Lord.

December 2007

(I wrote this for the Christmas celebration December 2007 in my school. And I presented it there)

© Copyright Aiswarya T Anish, Kerala, India

poem by Aiswarya T. Anish
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There Are Those Who Have Known Daily Horrors

THERE ARE THOSE WHO HAVE KNOWN DAILY HORRORS

I have had a relatively easy life-
There are those who have known daily horrors
Beyond those any human being should ever have to imagine
I think of the last generation of survivors of the Shoah
Slowly dying out now
Taking with them their memories of loved ones murdered before their eyes
Of incredible tortures and cruelty
Of horrible partings and endless humiliations-

I think of these people my fellow Jews
And wonder why God allowed it to happen to them
And what it all means-

I certainly don't know-

I have had a relatively easy life
With of course my own griefs and sorrows and failings
But nothing at all like what they went through -

Oh God what is this whole thing about anyway?
And why did You let the Nazi Germans and their Austrian Polish Lithuanian Slovak Romanian Hungarian Dutch French helpers
Do it to them?

Why families with tens of members murdered
Why the children?
The incredible cruelties and humiliations and horrors
Why?

poem by Shalom Freedman
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For The Moment, This Is Love

Let’s tour graveyard sites
On lonely nights,
Kiss like death
Each other’s breath,
You can bite my skin
Until it tears and bleeds,
There’s a certain amount
Of depravity
That has to mingle with life
Before the final
Closing of the eyes.

Baby, you and I
Are not afraid
Of dark desires
Nor a sprinkling
Of healthy violence…

I’ve got your safe words
Memorized…we’ll survive.

poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Beautiful

Beautiful is the rising sun
that touches the dark world
glowing red hot,
like a coal from the fire
of the gods

Beautiful is the crystal blue sky
that stretches to the horizon,
with its purity and brings serenity
to every living thing.

Beautiful is the yellow moon
that awakens dreams,
of how wondrous
life on this earth
really is.

Beautiful is a wave
crashing over a rocky shore,
that sprays the intensity
and mysteries of nature
on the earth.

Yet all of these things
fade away into insignificance
against the smile on your face
and nothing can describe,
the light and expression
in your golden eyes.

You are far more
than beautiful to me
and no white Lily
or dark red Rose,
will ever hold
the same significance
that you bring to me.

When all is said and done
my life is completely empty
when you’re gone,
but when you are with me
life plays like the sweetest melody
and my greatest gift from life is you.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Nowadays it is the fashion to emphasize the horrors of the last war. I didn't find it so horrible. There are just as horrible things happening all round us today, if only we had eyes to see them.

quote by Ludwig Wittgenstein
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whalebones And Crosses

(HenryHoldridge)
Whalebones and crosses stand against the Arctic sky.
The wind blows through the graveyard where our fallen fathers lie.
Eternal snow that covers them, the shadows of the sun.
The mighty struggle on the seas, a way of life is run.
I'll sing for you my father, for the ancient sacred ways.
How the hunter loved the hunted, how the night becomes the day.
The circle of the mighty spirit keeps us in its fold.
The warmth of understanding like a light shot through the cold.
Then bring to me my people, touch them with your loving hands.
Lead them from confusion, lead them back unto the land.
For sickness seems to block their path, it clouds my people's eyes.
The promise that an idle truth will reap a golden lie.
Whalebones and crosses stand against the Arctic sky.
The wind blows through the graveyard where our fallen fathers lie.
The timeless hunt, a journey back to what we once came from.
Compassion and nobility beneath the midnight sun.
The mighty struggle on the seas, a way of life is run.

song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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