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A Dialogue

An old man; hunchback
He was carrying some firewood's
And he is passing the old graveyard towards his cottage.
He said that he heard a dialogue
Between the child who was buried yesterday
And the oldest tomb was in the cemetery.

New Grave: Grandpa is you still living?
I hear your breathing.

Old Grave: My son I learned to breathe here.
The world is full of puff,
What else?

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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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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Kingdom of the dead souls

I couldn't be a Crown Prince in my whole life
And here in the isolated graveyard
I am the King of the benighted Kingdom
As I am the only tomb-grave stands among the paupers.
The poor grave-digger used to drink beside my tomb, I too intoxicate
And sometimes we talk about lot of things.
The poor rest graves very quiet as hermits even after their deaths.
(And I hear the melody, miraculous pan flute of Georghe Zamfir's in a distant.)

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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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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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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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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Try Not To Breathe

I will try not to breathe.
I can hold my head still with my hands at my knees.
These eyes are the eyes of the old, shiver and fold.
I will try not to breathe.
This decision is mine. i have lived a full life
And these are the eyes that I want you to remember. oh.
I need something to fly over my grave again.
I need something to breathe.
I will try not to burden you.
I can hold these inside. I will hold my breath
Until all these shivers subside,
Just look in my eyes.
I will try not to worry you.
I have seen things that you will never see.
Leave it to memory me. I shudder to breathe.
I want you to remember. oh. (you will never see)
I need something to fly (something to fly)
Over my grave again. (you will never see)
I need something to breathe. (something to breathe)
Baby, dont shiver now.
Why do you shiver now? (I will see things you will never see)
I need something to fly (something to fly)
Over my grave again. (I will see things you will never see)
I need something to breathe. oh. oh. oh.
I will try not to worry you.
I have seen things that you will never see.
Leave it to memory me. dont dare me to breathe.
I want you to remember. oh. (you will never see)
I need something to fly (something to fly)
Over my grave again. (you will never see)
I need something to breathe. (something to breathe)
Baby, dont shiver now.
Why do you shiver now? (I will see things you will never see)
I need something to breathe. (something to breathe - I have seen things
You will never see)
I want you to remember.

song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Faerie Qveene

Me thought I saw the grave where she lay
Within that Temple, where the vestal flame
Was won't to burne, and passing by that way.
To see that buried dust of living fame,
Whose tomb faire love, and fairer vertue kept,
All suddenly I saw the Faerie Qveene:
At whose approach the soul of Petrarke wept,
And from thenceforth those graces were not seen.
For they this Qveene attended, in whose steed
Obliuion laid him down on her herse:
Here at the hardest stones were seen to bleed,
And groans of buried ghosts the heruens did perse.
Where he spright did tremble all for grief.
And curst th'accesse of that celestial thief

poem by Edmund Spenser
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Ah, Are You Digging on My Grave?

"Ah, are you digging on my grave,
My loved one? -- planting rue?"
-- "No: yesterday he went to wed
One of the brightest wealth has bred.
'It cannot hurt her now,' he said,
'That I should not be true.'"

"Then who is digging on my grave,
My nearest dearest kin?"
-- "Ah, no: they sit and think, 'What use!
What good will planting flowers produce?
No tendance of her mound can loose
Her spirit from Death's gin.'"

"But someone digs upon my grave?
My enemy? -- prodding sly?"
-- "Nay: when she heard you had passed the Gate
That shuts on all flesh soon or late,
She thought you no more worth her hate,
And cares not where you lie.

"Then, who is digging on my grave?
Say -- since I have not guessed!"
-- "O it is I, my mistress dear,
Your little dog , who still lives near,
And much I hope my movements here
Have not disturbed your rest?"

"Ah yes! You dig upon my grave...
Why flashed it not to me
That one true heart was left behind!
What feeling do we ever find
To equal among human kind
A dog's fidelity!"

"Mistress, I dug upon your grave
To bury a bone, in case
I should be hungry near this spot
When passing on my daily trot.
I am sorry, but I quite forgot
It was your resting place."

poem by Thomas Hardy
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neath A Cold Gray Tomb Of Stone

Passing by a lonesome graveyard
Everything I love is gone
Weeping as they lay my darling
Neath a cold gray tomb of stone
In this world i'm left to wander
With no one to call my own
While my precious darling's sleeping
Neath a cold gray tomb of stone
Out there in that lonesome graveyard
She is sleeping all alone
And I burried my heart with her
Neath a cold gray tomb of stone
Skies above are dark and stormy
All the sunshine,all is gone
For the while my love is sleeping
Neath a cold gray tomb of stone
My heart is dead and yet i'm living
Traveling through this world alone
I wish that I was with my darling
Neath a cold gray tomb of stone

song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sex Partner

You were like my sex partner but,
The wings of love came and took you away;
And there you lay in another man's bed,
And like yesterday when i heard your cry.

Today you are gone too soon and,
Tomorrow you will be buried in the grave of lovers;
For you left me with a very ad note.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A Vision upon the Fairy Queen

Methought I saw the grave where Laura lay,
Within that temple where the vestal flame
Was wont to burn; and, passing by that way,
To see that buried dust of living fame,
Whose tomb fair Love and fairer Virtue kept,
All suddenly I saw the Fairy Queen,
At whose approach the soul of Petrarch wept ;
And from thenceforth those graces were not seen,
For they this Queen attended; in whose stead
Oblivion laid him down on Laura's hearse.
Hereat the hardest stones were seen to bleed,
And groans of buried ghosts the heavens did pierce :
Where Homer's spright did tremble all for grief,
And cursed the access of that celestial thief.

poem by Sir Walter Raleigh
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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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Stranger

I met him on the way last sunday
He said that he is a Postmaster
I said how glad to meet him
and I gave him some letters to post.
I met him again, yes the same person on monday.
He said that he knows my father and he too a blacksmith.
Then I gave him a knife to sharpen.
I met him at the cemetery gravel road on Tuesday.
Yes, the same gentleman.
He said that he is a Pawnbroker, he knows my mother well
and he lives behind the cemetery.
I gave him my wedding ring and begged for money.
He took it and ran away.
One day when I was just passing the graveyard I saw his tomb with a photograph.
and this was written.
'Once a post master
and a blacksmith
killed a pawnbroker
died as a gambler'

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Grave desecration

I will go to my father
where his grave is in the hillocks
and when I get to his grave
I will rise my eyes into the blue

and my eyes will look at the unfathomable
while the world depart from me
and there I will find God
while the day appears

and for moments I will
be in companionship with my Lord
as if He is with me in the graveyard
and see how roots tear the grave apart

and shadows will already draw lines
stretch out long from the hillocks
while twilight is creeping closer
and I will advance

right up to
the office of the caretaker
and he will have to explain
why I am finding a tree
on my mother’s resting place.

poem by Gert Strydom
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The Night Watchman

For the past three months,
I have been buried ina grave without a name on;
Because, nobody knew my name.
One day in the night,
A watcman heard a noise from one of the graves;
And he did what was right.
He came closer to the grave side which seems to make a sound and,
Started to dig around it to be very sure of what he was hearing;
Until finally he saw me and pulled me out!
Yes, i am now alive and back to life;
And i do have the hope to live again,
So thanks to the night watcman!
Thank you Sir,
For you've saved my life;
And the roses around my grave will always remember you.
Thank you Sir,
For being there for me;
When, many thought that i was dead and gone.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Brothers

Do you remember how we crept
Across out bedroom to our bed,
Fearing the dark! And how you wept?
And on a sudden lay like lead?
And how I feared that you were dead,
But heard you breathing as you slept?

And now we're buried, buried deep,
And lie in silence head by head.
I neither hear you breathe nor weep.
We lie together in our bed.
I do not fear that you are dead.
I know that you are fast asleep.

poem by Leon Gellert
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Pipe Song

Care is all stuff:--
Puff! Puff!
To puff is enough:--
Puff! Puff
More musky than snuff,
And warm is a puff:--
Puff! Puff
Here we sit mid our puffs,
Like old lords in their ruffs,
Snug as bears in their muffs:--
Puff! Puff
Then puff, puff, puff,
For care is all stuff,
Puffed off in a puff--
Puff! Puff!

poem by Herman Melville
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Red Rose, Black Stone

As we kissed and you closed your eyes
I heard you whisper this is not goodbye;
please don’t grieve, I’m now free from pain,
and in another life we’ll be as one again.

I’ve placed this red rose on your marble stone,
it leaves me full of tears and I feel so alone.
It should have been me lying there in your grave,
you were my inspiration, so full of life and brave.

We both knew that you were much stronger than I,
it’s so unfair that you were the one to die.
Your hunger for life grew with every passing day,
but then you became ill and faded away.

Now you have gone and I remain here,
full of anguish, and selfish tears.
My reason for living has been taken away
and without you I’m lost in an empty day

poem by Orlando Belo
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The Oldest Baby In The World

Shes got the mind of a child
And a body peaking over the hill
Well, she would if she could
And she should but nobody will
With her nails painted red
And her hair so unnaturally curled
Well I think that she may be
The oldest baby in the world
Shes tasted the night life
But its left her with nothing but hunger
And all the available men
Seem to think that they want something younger
But youth is a costume
And the beauty within lies unfurled
And I think that she may be
The oldest baby in the world
Fast horses win races
And royal flushes beat aces
And everyones playing to keep
So lets turn out the lights
And rock that old baby to sleep
She loves the sound of the rain
But you know shes still afraid of the thunder
She keeps a head full of hope
And a heart thats so full of wonder
She may look like a woman
But shes still some daddys little girl
And I think that she may be
The oldest baby in the world
Yes, I think that she may be
The oldest baby in the world

song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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