The Unmarked Grave
There are mourners beside an unmarked grave
witness how quietly they all there do behave.
All shedding silent tears for one they’ve lost
perhaps some loved one in this way to accost.
It seems uncertain if anyone about really knows
who is buried there beneath the grass that grows
at this distant lonely place away from all the rest
perhaps it was the deceased person’s last bequest.
There isn’t any indication to say when, where or how the person died
just these mourners that have come here it seems from far and wide
to pay their solemn respects to one for which only they all know
perhaps it’s the least thing to the departed one they now do owe.
The buried person must have left a strong impression in everyone’s mind
and when alive would have been an influence of some remarkable kind.
There’s no real telling just what the circumstances might then have been
but judging from the expression on all their faces one of deep loss is seen.
The flowers brought by all the mourners there
and placed on the ground at their feet where
they formed a cross inside a circle of distinction
to commemorate the passing with a benediction.
------------------
poem by George Krokos
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Related quotes
Lonely Person
Every person
Is a lonely person,
But doesn't realize it,
Until it starts to hurt.
The loneliness
Is buried
Under layers
Of activity and commitment.
Take away those
The loneliness is exposed
And it starts to hurt.
The lonely person
Thinks he or she is a special case.
So do the others.
They treat the lonely person like a contagion,
Which the lonely person isn't.
poem by Lonely People Champion
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love Of The Sea
He sailed the sea. He loved the sea
and he died in the sea as well.
The sea loved him.
The sea welcomed him
in the deep and dangerous swell.
And so the two did meet,
unexpectedly the two did meet
and the sea became his grave.
The mourners cried when they thought of him
as they watched each windy wave.
But the sea and he were both content
so neither did lament.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fidele's Grassy Tomb
The Squire sat propped in a pillowed chair,
His eyes were alive and clear of care,
But well he knew that the hour was come
To bid good-bye to his ancient home.
He looked on garden, wood, and hill,
He looked on the lake, sunny and still:
The last of earth that his eyes could see
Was the island church of Orchardleigh.
The last that his heart could understand
Was the touch of the tongue that licked his hand:
'Bury the dog at my feet,' he said,
And his voice dropped, and the Squire was dead.
Now the dog was a hound of the Danish breed,
Staunch to love and strong at need:
He had dragged his master safe to shore
When the tide was ebbing at Elsinore.
From that day forth, as reason would,
He was named 'Fidele,' and made it good:
When the last of the mourners left the door
Fidele was dead on the chantry floor.
They buried him there at his master's feet,
And all that heard of it deemed it meet:
The story went the round for years,
Till it came at last to the Bishop's ears.
Bishop of Bath and Wells was he,
Lord of the lords of Orchardleigh;
And he wrote to the Parson the strongest screed
That Bishop may write or Parson read.
The sum of it was that a soulless hound
Was known to be buried in hallowed ground:
From scandal sore the Church to save
They must take the dog from his masters grave.
The heir was far in a foreign land,
The Parson was wax to my Lord's command:
He sent for the Sexton and bade him make
A lonely grave by the shore of the lake.
The Sexton sat by the water's brink
Where he used to sit when he used to think:
He reasoned slow, but he reasoned it out,
And his argument left him free from doubt.
'A Bishop,' he said, 'is the top of his trade:
But there's others can give him a start with the spade:
Yon dog, he carried the Squire ashore,
And a Christian couldn't ha' done no more.
The grave was dug; the mason came
And carved on stone Fidele's name;
But the dog that the Sexton laid inside
Was a dog that never had lived or died.
So the Parson was praised,and the scandal stayed,
Till, a long time after, the church decayed,
And, laying the floor anew, they found
In the tomb of the Squire the bones of a hound.
As for the Bishop of Bath and Wells
No more of him the story tells;
Doubtless he lived as a Prelate and Prince,
And died and was buried a century since.
And whether his view was right or wrong
Has little to do with this my song;
Something we owe him, you must allow;
And perhaps he has changed his mind by now.
The Squire in the family chantry sleeps,
The marble still his memory keeps:
Remember, when the name you spell,
There rest Fidele's bones as well.
For the Sexton's grave you need not search,
'Tis a nameless mound by the island church:
An ignorant fellow, of humble lot---
But. he knew one thing that a Bishop did not.
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Buried Alive
Afraid to feel
What's inside
Embrace my soul
In solitude
Frozen eyes
Face the fears
Rising strong
Out of control
Feels like I'm bursting into flames
Lost in hate future will be gone
Emotions strained misty eyes
Hear those silent cries
Nothing's real
I can't appear
The cold winds blow
Into my face
Feels like I'm bursting into flames
Lost in hate future will be gone
feels like I'm safe here
feels like I'm strong
Buried, Buried alive
Buried, Buried alive
song performed by by Zonata
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Only dead dreams can bring her back
Buried, beneath the ground so deep
no soul on earth can find,
I buried the only woman I loved
in her grave and in my mind.
But she's on her way to heaven now,
to be with him tonight.
She's on her way to heaven
after he took her from my life!
To be his loving angel!
forever in his arms.
In all her satin shrouds,
she yearns to be with God!
But on her way to heaven,
she pauses just a while.
On her way to heaven
she remembers one last time!
that in my mind she lives forever!
in every memory she never died! ,
..........on her way to heaven
my wife will come back in my dreams tonight.
For Lonely People
What can you do for lonely people?
Be strong yourself
Because
Only when you are strong
Do you have the strength
To step up
And offer help
To a lonely person.
Be strong yourself
And know
That helping a lonely person
Is the easiest
Thing you can do.
Be strong yourself
And know
That managing the lonely person
Is a task
That will also fall to you.
poem by Lonely People Champion
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Own Proverb
Love a person who loves you
Like a person who likes you
Hear a person who hears you
Help a person who needs you
Respect a person who respects you
poem by Ravi Sathasivam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Same As I
i get so tired
of writing poems
about suffering....
but everywhere i look,
all around me,
people are hurting....
and try as i might,
i cant close my eyes,
cant shut my ears up
to the sounds of need and want.
and i cannot be silent
as long as there's one person
who is not free,
one person whose rights
have been violated....
one person who is hungry,
one person who is homeless,
one person sick who cannot
get medical care....
one person abused, enslaved,
or treated like property...
i cannot, and i will not stop,
for they are the same
as i... i see their faces
every time i look in the mirror!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Can One Person Do
(n. rodgers/g. smith)
What can one person do
More than a little bit
More than a little bit
Can I fight the battle
All by myself
Can I make a miracle happen
As long as I can think
And got my health
Ill never stop
Im too strong for that
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
Everyones gotta move
What they can move
The faithful can sometimes move mountains
When your faith is right
You will never lose your heart, your hope
Or your good friends
Dont be overcome by frustrations
Live up to your highest expectations
Im tellin you just for your information
Just for, just for your information
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
Looked into my soul and suspected
That Im gonna take, gonna take on the unexpected
Walked into the fire unprotected
Walk into the fire
What can one person do
What can one person be
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Love For You
you buried something
deep,
in fact deeper than burying
someone
who died nine days ago,
since you want to forget
and forget
this forever, something that
you lost and would want it lost
and not want
to recover
from a distance i look at you
and shed tears for
what you buried
without much pomp of a ceremony
i pity
what cruelty you have to yourself
i bring a flower
for that which was buried and lost
it is something that i always
cherish and
remember with all the gladness of my heart
with all the gentleness of my soul
my love for you
deep in the layers of time
buried
still blooms
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Another’s Light
I do not know what brought me here
Away from where I’ve hardly ever been and now
Am never likely to go again.
Faces are lost, and places passed
At which I could have stopped,
And stopping, been glad enough.
Some faces left a mark,
And I on them might have wrought
Some kind of charm or spell
To make their futures work,
But it’s hard to guess
How one person on another
Works an influence.
We pass, and lit briefly by one another’s light
Hope the way we go is right.
poem by Brian Patten
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Round Dell 1339 after Arthur Compton Rickett A Roundel 1915
A week ago saw dark grave swallow
Beauty's soul, scarce twenty years.
Who could imagine heartbreak hollow
a week ago?
Love now is buried and, in tears,
especially for ourselves, we wallow.
What worth hold hopes compared with fears
with Fate's goad told?
Beneath the sods bier mourners follow,
find closed book, look closed, seal deaf ears
leaving a void in hearts that knew no dearth
A week ago!
(10 April 2005)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Face Up
The monster construct
what's inside
formed of liquid metal
The man who knew
of mourners
who were heartbroken
for sentimental reasons
All that's said
of this fallen majesty
has little time to find
the lost master
upon the parting of
the old general
poem by Shai Cherry
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If you dig a hole to bury a person but instead of burying that person you may be the one to be buried in this place.
My Heart is Broken
Does anyone know that my heart is broken?
Perhaps no one really knows because of the laughter I show when I'm with them,
Nobody knows that my heart is hurting because of that person.
Those days in love it was the laughter that made me happy,
Waking up in the morning next to the person that I loved,
It was everything that I could wished for,
But the laughter faded when the person said it was over.
Years have passed by but the memories are still here,
And I don't think I could ever erase the person from my mind,
Those wonderful memories from my heart.
My heart is bleeding from the sad memories that were once happy,
I can laugh and laugh,
I can lie to myself and my friends,
But the tears from the laughter are the tears from the heartbreak.
Sometimes in the nights I hear myself laughing,
The laughter that echoes through the nights,
Through the lonely dark room,
I sometimes realize that not all of the echoing sounds are laughter,
But they are the tears and sadness coming from my heart.
How can I erase anything when the person's love was so beautiful?
How can I erase that person from my memory,
When I still love that person so much
poem by Heather Noble
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I will be in comfort and others in peace
Down under and deep inside me
There sits a judge with a hammer
Beside a big old wooden table
With a eye-folded statue and a
Tossing balance
No one around,
No attendant or clerk in front
Only the accused
In the stand meant
No witness, nor arguments
No lawyer for or against the accused
No mention of sections or provisions
Of any law or regulation
And the judge is ever ready for judging
And comes out to declare that
This is good and that is bad
Which law school he is from
In which law he is a specialist
I know not a thing,
But he is always judging
And makes me act on his judgments
Normally we address
“The learned judge”
I know how “learned”
The person judging
Sitting down under deep inside me
Most of his judgments and
Subsequent acts of mine
Made me regret
And put others in discomfort
I have a request to
My inside judge
“Oh, Noble but lowly learned judge
How nice will it be
If you stop judging'
I will be in comfort and
Others in peace
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Angels Cry
When you see death,
You know you have to leave this place,
When angels cry,
You know that person is crying,
All you can do is cry for that person,
All you can say is please don't cry,
All you want to do is cry and regret on what you said to that person,
To see that person pass away it breaks your heart,
Wanting to die to be with them,
Somewhere out there you he or she is watching over you,
When angels cry,
You know the person you care about is crying for you,
You feel lost without that person,
Sometimes you wish you can turn back the hands of time just to say goodbye to that person,
Your final words,
When angels cry,
You want to say goodbye,
No regrets, No nothing, that emptyness you feel inside fades away within time.
To my best friend Andrew Ybarra who passed away on March 2,2009.
May he R.I.P.
poem by Jennifer Rondeau
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Social Networking For Lonely People
It is like a transfusion
Into the life of a lonely person,
When that lonely person
Starts social networking,
In person or online.
The grand highway
Out of loneliness
Is sociable action
Of any kind.
poem by Lonely People Champion
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Commandant Gideon Scheepers
They tried to send him to hell,
as if he was one of them,
a traitor, a rebel.
The British killed a captured ill man,
that they came across in the veldt
without decency, or any military law being honoured.
They shot a Boer commandant through the heart
and without a funeral note,
they hurried, to get him buried.
A brave man devoted
to his country, to his God,
whose burial place was not noted.
Turning sod after sod
with spades, they dumped him
in a unmarked grave
in the dead of night
without using light
they threw ground upon his chest,
laid him to rest without any honour
and left him alone
without a marking stone.
[References: The rank of Commandant is equivalent to that of Lieutenant Colonel. The heroic story of Gideon Scheepers during the second Anglo-Boer war, who was captured while being ill in the veldt as a normal combatant, but treated like a rebel and shot by the British, who buried him in a unmarked hole in the ground.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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When A Person Does Not Know What
When a person does not know what to do with himself
When a person feels empty
When a person feels everything he had done and everything he can do do is meaningless
When a person is bored
When a person does not know what to do with himself
And wonders why he is on this earth
And how he will endure more of it
When a person does not know what to do with himself
He must do any little thing he can do
To get himself going-
He must wash the dishes or clean the house or take something to eat or take a small walk or read a page
Or do any one of a million or more other small things to get himself going
And once he is going he must somehow go on and on and from this to something else
So that at some point somewhere along the way somehow
He is doing something
Perhaps not that great
But doing something
And in doing something
Perhaps forgetting about himself
A bit
Perhaps.
WHAT DO I KNOW? \AND WHO AM I?
What do I know?
And who am I?
The real questions
I cannot answer
They are beyond me.
And I don't think
I have anything to give
Even in beginning to answer them.
Just another human being
Who has come this way
And soon will be gone
Without ever having answered
The real questions.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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