Tombstone
This does not belongs to a King or a Superior.
An innumerable mass grave.
The inhumane just pretend as immaculate
those wolves who brought these innocents
to this isolated graveyard.
The old bearded Stonemason believes
while he was carving he heard some whispers of children,
men and women.
Although they were forgotten names in the Census
the forget-me-not flowers still bloom on their graves.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
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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The Flowers Of May
the children are picking
the flowers of May
as offering for the
Immaculate Mother
the flowers only bloom
once a year
to meet such an instant
fate
of bloom not reaching
the 30th day
tradition does not think
that much.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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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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Torches
It was a big trauma.
Granary went overboard,
my boat was torpedoed.
No romance was left now.
At the burial of the moon
aliens were arriving.
You do not want to call it a genocide.
The massacre of millions, of children
and women. The civil war was inside you,
not in the homes of innocents. A god
falls on the rail-tracks to commit
suicide. His severed limbs I would not see.
I want to close the window,
as the white dove was carrying
dead leaves for a mass grave.
poem by Satish Verma
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Let's not pretend that abortion isn't about the mass slaughter of innocents.
quote by Michael Aston
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Business Of War
The Business of War.
In this clearing in the woods so full of butter coloured flowers
I know there is a mass grave underneath, a forgotten war,
bones of the nameless that died for a cause that was not theirs,
but they were loyal and when told to fight and they often died,
many never knowing why. At the edge, of the yellow field,
there are pale poppies the dead have no more blood to offer.
I think of Afghanistan, poppies there are more deadly, I wonder
if western soldiers who lost their life in a cause that is unclear,
will get their own graveyard and have their crosses there,
in a Moslem country, tended to with fresh flowers, but go easy
on the poppies. The skeletons under my feet, died because of
salt that, once upon a time- before oil- was big business, but I’m
sure the soldiers were told lies about nationality and freedom.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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We Worship
Why do we worship? The man who does this
Is a person who believes in belief itself;
A mind races with his hood and wage,
Flowers are mostly strong in their talents
Like the people’s lies and eerie feelings.
We brought kinds of flowers, to worship us
And so we do not worship them;
Their faces turn to their star, in fixed ways,
Living inside the shell of their dreams,
With us and our gardens that are fetched.
Then the sun rages on them, living with us
Is shame and disaster, for we worship
And the flowers wilt and die,
Reminding us of splendour and heaven,
The graves of the flowers.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Some Flowers Bloom Dead
We didnt make it
We did not pull through
You shouldnt blame me
I dont blame you
Now what else did you think
That I would do?
Ooooh as if it wasnt hard enough
Im so tired of waking up
Feeling bad
You havent been the kind of place I have
Could it hurt you now
To let this pass?
Oooooh as if it wasnt hard enough
You want to make it so much harder
Now in another world
I could learn to forget
But til then Im here
Making room for new regrets
Now some flowers they never bloom
And some flowers just bloom dead
The way you make me feel
I could collapse
An epidemic I cannot outlast
How could you feel used
When I feel trapped?
Ooooh as if it wasnt hard enough
And just as my conscience
Starts to clear
I drag the river and youre still there
The way I bring you down
Could not compare
Ooooh as if it wasnt hard enough
You want to make it so much harder
Now in another world
I could learn to forget
But til then Im here
Making room for new regrets
Now some flowers they never bloom
But some flowers just bloom dead
Now some flowers they never bloom
And some flowers just bloom dead
The way I sleep
This bed just cant be made
I pull the covers up around my head
Now when I think of me
I think of somebody else instead
As if it wasnt hard enough
Youre gonna make it so much harder
Now in another world
I could learn to forget
But til then Im here
Making room for new regrets
Now some flowers they never bloom
And some flowers just bloom dead
Now some flowers they never bloom
And some flowers they just bloom dead
song performed by by Wallflowers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Some Flowers Bloom Dead
We didnt make it
We did not pull through
You shouldnt blame me
I dont blame you
Now what else did you think
That I would do?
Ooooh as if it wasnt hard enough
Im so tired of waking up
Feeling bad
You havent been the kind of place I have
Could it hurt you now
To let this pass?
Oooooh as if it wasnt hard enough
You want to make it so much harder
Now in another world
I could learn to forget
But til then Im here
Making room for new regrets
Now some flowers they never bloom
And some flowers just bloom dead
The way you make me feel
I could collapse
An epidemic I cannot outlast
How could you feel used
When I feel trapped?
Ooooh as if it wasnt hard enough
And just as my conscience
Starts to clear
I drag the river and youre still there
The way I bring you down
Could not compare
Ooooh as if it wasnt hard enough
You want to make it so much harder
Now in another world
I could learn to forget
But til then Im here
Making room for new regrets
Now some flowers they never bloom
But some flowers just bloom dead
Now some flowers they never bloom
And some flowers just bloom dead
The way I sleep
This bed just cant be made
I pull the covers up around my head
Now when I think of me
I think of somebody else instead
As if it wasnt hard enough
Youre gonna make it so much harder
Now in another world
I could learn to forget
But til then Im here
Making room for new regrets
Now some flowers they never bloom
And some flowers just bloom dead
Now some flowers they never bloom
And some flowers they just bloom dead
song performed by by Wallflowers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Tintagel Graveyard
Who brought flowers to this grave?
I, said the wren.
I brought them as seeds and then
Watched them grow.
No, said the wind. That's not true.
I blew them across the moor and sea,
I blew them up to the grave's door.
They were a gift from me.
They came of their own accord,
Said the celandine.
I know best. They're brothers of mine.
I am Death's friend,
Said the crow. I ought to know.
I dropped them into the shadow of the leaning stone.
I brought the flowers.
No, said Love,
It was I who brought them,
With the help of the wren's wing,
With the help of the wind's breath,
With the help of the celandine and the crow.
It was I who brought them
For the living and the dead to share,
I was the force that put those flowers there.
poem by Brian Patten
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Forget Me Not
My friend, never
Forget, forgotten me,
Forget and be forgotten.
Never forget
Our friendship,
Our relationship,
Our partnership.
Never forget
Our hope,
Our inspiration,
Our courage,
Our confidence.
Forget me not,
When we live separately,
When we out of sight,
When we out of mind,
When we out of sanity.
Forget yet remember me,
Forget yet forgive me,
Forget yet pray for me,
Forget yet call me.
Please forget me not.
Not to forget,
Your friend,
Your dream and vision,
Your ambition and success.
Forget me not,
Forget the No,
Forget the Maybe,
Forget the should be.
Think not to forget,
Think to remember,
Think to feel,
Think to say.
Forget, forgotten,
All bad things,
All bad deeds,
But forget me not.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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Killing Field
Killing Field.
The mass grave of ivory hued sandstones,
each one of the same size and just the thing
as headstones, has been filled in.
Chocolate brown soil covers them and that’s
a pity, not touched by a stonemason’s hand
they will forever be nameless and lack soul.
Grass and weed will cover the soil sheep
will graze rabbits frolic, as the shepherd
smokes a cigarette and look at the blue sky.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Eyes: those tragic eyes,
It was her eyes, those tragic eyes
The saddest eyes I ever saw.
That made me start to realise.
The price that children pay for war.
Those eyes had seen brutalities
no innocent should ever see
She haunted still by memories
from which I fear she can’t break free.
I look into her eyes and see
that she expects nothing from me.
She has no hope that there might be
an ending to her misery.
Although I know I’m not to blame
I still feel guilty all the same.
Though we protest our innocence
in our attempts to rationalise.
What can we say in self defence.
That is not based on blatant lies.
It makes me frankly furious
that innocents should suffer so
The guilt belongs to all of us.
We can’t pretend we did not know
That we should learn from history
instead of choosing to ignore
Because we do not want to see.
There are no winners in a war.
I can’t forget those empty eyes
They’ll haunt me ‘til the day I die.
Monday,08 November 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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She Believes In Me
i'm tossing and turning and i can't get to sleep
got something on my mind - i just can't release
then she whispers so softly - that she believes in me
if i let her down - and tried to disguise it
she always see through it always replies that
no matter what i do - she believes in me
all the times i failed - gone slighty off the rails
she's there to remind me - she believes in me
when it all goes wrong and i feel i'm own
she's there to remind me - she believes in me
don't get me wrong - i not some kind of fool
i give her my world if she asked me to
cuz here's no denying - she believes in me
but i'm only human - i'm just a guy
that sometimes makes mistakes and i can't explain why
some say crazy - but she believes in me
song performed by by Bryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dead Flowers
When you're sitting there, in your silk upholstered cahir
Talkin' to some rich folk that you know.
I hope you won't see me, and my ragged company
Cause you know I could never be alone
Take me down little Susie, take me down
I know you think you're the queen of the underground
And you can send me dead flowers every morning,
Send me dead flowers by th U.S. Mail,
Send me dead flowers to my wedding,
And I won't forget to put roses on your grave.
When you're sitting back, in your rose pink, Cadillac
Making bets on Kentucky Derby day
I'll be in my basement room, with a needle, and a spoon
And another whore to take my pain away
Take me down, little Susie take me down
I know you think you're the queen of the underground.
And you can send me dead flowers every morning.
Send me dead flowers by the U.S Mail.
Send me dead flowers to my wedding
And I won't forget to put roses on your grave
Take me down, little Susie take me down
I know you think you're the queen of the underground.
And you can send me dead flowers every morning.
Send me dead flowers by the U.S Mail.
Say it with dead flowers in my wedding
And I won't forget to put roses on your grave
No, I won't forget to put roses on your grave
song performed by by Guns N' Roses
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He who had been dead was dead no more
‘He's mine' boasted the grave in victory
'He is dead so now he belongs to me'
But Death had forgotten about the One
Who's God's One and Only Belovèd Son.
Jesus had arrived upon that sad scene
giving hope where only despair had been.
'I am the Resurrection and Life, ' said He
'The power of Death is subject to me.'
'Where have you laid him? ' sadly Jesus sighed
'Come and see, Lord, ' both the women replied.
Seeing their helplessness at the graveside
Deep tears of sorrow the Son of God cried.
They opened the tomb, rolled the stone away
Then they heard Jesus in a loud voice say
'Lazarus come out' and amazingly they saw
That he who had been dead was dead no more.
'Remove the grave clothing and let him go'
and each semblance of death was removed so
and His power over death Jesus did show
it that town of Bethany long ago.
Children's Playground In The City
THIS is a place where men laid their dead,
Each with his life-tale of good or ill;
Here prayers were murmured and hot tears shed,
And passionate anguish moaned its fill.
Silent now is each voice that cried,
And the tears that were wept have all been dried
In the dust; and dust are the hearts that bled
With hopeless longing for hearts grown still.
Dead and forgotten! for Death, requiter
Of love, taught Memory how to forget!
The love that remembered them died. Grow brighter,
Oh, dim grave-garden, with dead hearts set!
Room for the small flying feet to pass,
The feet of the children over the grass!
The dead, if they knew it, would feel them lighter
Than the weight of a stone that no tears make wet.
We must die too, and the grief that will live
Must die as surely--death comes to all;
But you who come after--let Nature give
To our graves her tears, to our dust her pall:
Let her hide us away in her cold broad breast,
Let us be forgotten, and be at rest,
And over our heads let the great world strive,
And the children's voices carol and call.
If your heart on the flower of remembrance is set,
There is one way to pluck it--and only one:
Dare you ask your country not to forget
A name that needs to be graved on stone?
By grief, strife, sacrifice, scorn of fame,
You may grave on the people's hearts your name,
Or your name may die, and your soul live yet
In the cause you died for--the work you have done.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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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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The Playground
For decades, it was a playground and now a pauper's graveyard.
A politician suggests to make it a playground again.
I try to collect the names of champions
But no tombs and I hear some whispers;
'What is the use of getting our names
As we cannot compete the living souls?
Let us sleep well and write down this in your notebook brother.
We do not have regrets as there is no any race further.
Mr.Reporter, if possible lets work together to ensure
That every dead soul has a right to sleep.'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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