Buried epitaphs
For a wilted wallflower
Tirade of morose
haiku by Norman Santos
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Wallflower
Wallflower, wallflower
Wont you dance with me?
Im sad and lonely too.
Wallflower, wallflower
Wont you dance with me?
Im fallin in love with you.
Just like you Im wondrin what Im doin here.
Just like you Im wondrin whats goin on.
Wallflower, wallflower
Wont you dance with me?
The night will soon be gone.
I have seen you standing in the smoky haze
And I know that youre gonna be mine one of these days,
Mine alone.
Wallflower, wallflower
Take a chance on me.
Please let me ride you home.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Wilted Flower
Your waking dreams
I hear your screams
Of the hour
My wilted flower
All alone
Can’t go home
You must cower
My wilted flower
So much pain
Standing in the rain
You are not of power
My wilted flower
You run away
And there you stay
In the cold rain shower
My wilted flower
Memories of all the hate
Your horrible fate
They no longer tower
My wilted flower
In peace you die
I mustn’t cry
Your last hour
My wilted flower
~2009~
poem by Jennifer Cramer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wallflower
I remember when I was young,
the wallflower I used to be.
I would sit and watch
others gaze into each other’s eyes,
seeing the passion burning there.
All the time I was thinking,
will this ever happen to me?
Many times, I tried to excerpt myself,
and for my effort
received questioning stares.
Who is this weirdo?
Where did he come from?
It was a frustrating time, for this wallflower,
who on the shelf would remain.
I had no chat up lines,
only a pen and pad,
everyone who looked at me,
must have thought that I was mad.
I’d go to a party on the odd occasion I was invited,
sit in the corner on my own.
No one would talk to the odd man out.
Therefore, I would leave,
just the way I had come,
no one on my arm,
for that lonely trek home.
All the time I wondered,
is this the way my life is going to be.
A wallflower on a lonely shelf.
Shyness is an awful thing,
and it is very lonely.
For friends seem so very few.
I found out much later.
That I just had to let myself go.
Much to my surprise in doing it.
I was no longer a wallflower on a lonely shelf.
poem by David Harris
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Wilted Flower
She was a wilted flower
When I first saw her
Standing against the wall
She became a movie star
A glamorous, breathtaking
Movie star
I saw her yesterday
She is a wilted flower once more
Hoping
Praying
Dreaming
That someday
She will bloom again
She was a wilted flower
When I first saw her
poem by Gary Revel
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No Valentine
He waited.
He waited...
But waited too long.
It was unexpected-
The debris was everywhere-
His hope.
He cried till he laughed...
Lonely laughter-
Roses wilted.
His sanity wilted.
His love wilted...
Wind howls...
Rain mourns...
Thunder moans from grief...
Lightning shows sadness...
The sight of heart-shaped balloons,
Teddy bears, chocolate boxes,
Fresh roses-
He leaped off into peace of mind.
poem by Eon Ezkiel
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The Wilted Rose
I once observed a wilted Rose
Clipped before its time
How sad it was to see
It broke this heart of mine
I thought of what might have been
Bad this Rose been left to grow
The beauty of a single flower
For all the world to know
But then again I thought
There's more here to learn
The thought of resurrected love
Does make my heart to burn
Herein lies the secrest of love and life
For all of us to share
Give thanks and praise to God
For wilted Rose to bear
This Rose I saw and understood
That hang upon the tree
He wilted, died and rose again
Just for love of me.
poem by Dan J. Najvar
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My Memories Shall Bury Me
Tremendous distress slashes through my mortifying memories,
Classic epitaphs creeping into my dreams; scattering when I wake.
People with their snarling humor, viciously reporting my hysterics to one another.
Afraid of the thunder, but my troublesome dignity won’t let me scream.
I shall be buried electrically with the thunder, which is frighteningly vigorous in its pursuit of me.
Pace your vicious reports of my ingenious burial.
poem by Airohng Liebe
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Wallflower
A cigarette in the room
a veil of smoke
dislimning a short smile
for the red stars
and blue bulbs
The wallpaper caught
the shadows suspended
in the lattices of time
and made a room
for everyone
Before the wallflower
bloomed and divulged
its redolent presence
there was an oscillating hand
who grazed its petals
and bled on its thorns
But when it had gone
to dissolve with myriad shapes
and shadows of the past
the flower withered
like a bottomless hourglass
The fragrance won't come off
even in evisceration,
even in abolition,
writhing brown and crisp
like a heart disembogued
vying for its old blood
But no one pried
underneath a wallflower
so he waited for the old hands
who held him once
poem by Norman Santos
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Widowed Justice...
i,
demand justice
says the widow to the people
who mourn for her
the flowers wilted and
the niche is buried deep
down six feet
under, like a movie of sorts,
the people left her, alone,
headless, veils black and
hairs spangled, like worms
like she is the rotten body
now bare bones
inside her room, sleepless
till dawn
there is no justice, time
is narrow like a door that admits
no one, like a window closed
against any air of
possibilities
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The War Game
I am buried by time,
I am buried by love;
Like life from Herat in Afghanistan.
I am buried by the heat,
I am buried by the cold,
I am buried by the wings of nature!
Like life from Herat in Afghanistan.
Keep talking it,
Keep saying it,
Keep doing it,
Keep walking it,
Keep dancing it,
Keep swinging it,
Keep climbing it,
Keep trying it,
Keep asking it,
Keep working it,
Keep moving it,
Keep flying it,
Keep acting it,
All in the time frame to be buried;
Like the War Game in Afghanistan.
Buried under the nature of things,
With bombs exploding from left and right;
Like a message from Herat in Afghanistan.
The War Game,
All in a time frame to be buried;
Keep rolling it,
Keep changing it,
Keep trading it,
Keep building it,
Keep covering it,
Keep painting it,
Keep writing it,
Keep blocking it,
Keep cookin it,
Keep posting it,
Keep accepting it,
Keep driving it,
Keep bombing it,
Keep squeezing it,
Like the war game in Afghanistan.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Kiss The Girl
there she is
sitting in the corner
like a wallflower
go little boy
kiss the girl
who knows
you may turn
into a prince?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Take me to Paris With flowers
Take Me to Paris With Flowers
I'll run away, I'll run away
By your eyes of blue and the skies of gray.
To the heart of France, Paris
The city of love, magic.
I'll run away. I'll run away
Past the doors and gates that lock me,
That controls me.
Into your arms of loving,
Your eyes of wonder.
I'll run away. I'll run away
Through creeks and woods,
Re- Walking the steps that we had once stepped in.
Ride me with your bike,
and my basket of flowers.
That's all we have, something small,
Something, beautiful.
I'll run away, I'll run away
If I hadn't know that our love wasn't meant to be.
You wanted to wait.
Days after days of “wait”.
It's gloomy up here, up in my room,
Waiting and waiting for you.
The flowers have wilted, the skies are crying
Just like my hope had wilted, My tears are falling.
Your real eyes,
Until then I hadn't realize,
That it was just real lies.
All I wanted was a forever, All I wanted was a forever,
But it was just a broken promise,
beside a wilted flower.
poem by Nhu Nguyen
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All the violets are wilted, roses are dead...
Roses are red, violets are blue,
Say that you love me, tell me you do,
But the violets have wilted, the roses are dead,
Unlike the voices, so loud in you head,
You fought like a soldier, you were so brave,
But too weak for your mind, which kept you a slave,
People were blind, they did not see through,
The fake smiles and lies that became of you,
You tried hard, though all in vain,
For the demons still lurked in your brain,
The light was gone, her last breath taken,
Asleep forever, she would not awaken,
For the violets have wilted, roses are dead,
Away from herself, the young girl had fled.
poem by Just Paige
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Allurement
The amorous amours of her golden lips
Seals loves secret with a beautiful kiss
Into the lake, her soul then dips
With loves secret that our own hearts miss
A morose muse, following capricious whims
Wanders to the lake azure, searching for bliss
And in its beautiful waves his heart swims
So with his body the muse jumps in
Bliss! Bliss! Swimming in her mist
The morose muse searches beneath the lakes pretty surface
And sees an emanating jewel, a violet amethyst
With gold brewing in the center, like a ardent furnace
Echoes of love, his ears tenderly hear
Emanating from the jewel at the bottom of the lake
With a torrential gush, and no fear
The muse swims to the jewel, for its beauty to take
"Lost in thy lake, lost in blue! "
The morose muse hears the amethyst express
"Sad I am, I'll drown for you!
The morose muse utters in a profound profess
To the amethyst's heart of gold mortal distress
The morose muse looses breathe and sinks slowly
To the bottom of the lake of deep azure
Ascending to the heights of the sky holy
Falling in the traps of his beauties allure
The amorous amours of her golden lips
Breaks the stone of her love's amulet
And kisses the lips, of the drowning muse
And dies, like the heart of Romeo's Juliet!
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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The Perks of Being a Wallflower [A Toast to Charlie]
Emma Watson, Logan Lerman, Ezra Miller
by Stephen Chbosky from The Perks of Being a Wallflower (2012)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Lambaste Unto Your Shattered Reflection
Softly, the mist came with its trifle attention
lackadaisically promenading in the silver stillness
but nothing in this quiescence is intimate enough
to quell the raving flames of your furnace
shorn openly to desecrate the lacings of faith
I picked up the debris of your blaring tirade,
I cupped the ashes of your sterile lambaste,
I reckoned the vicarious pirouettes with death -
our hands are both tarnished but my soul stifles
under the condemns of your querulous parasol
The godly hands eloquently wove webs with you
until your fulminating repose was a perfect ensnare -
a wreck gnawing on your seams, sifting your dreams
shifting the crooked hands of your maladroit petals
Not now, but little by little, you'll know what I mean
When you catch a glimpse of horror by accident
and your mirrors unveil its light to the effluence
of masquerading faces and words you never knew
The mirrors are muted before your new form
and the light is siphoned by your lamentations
Whilst the phantoms deferred their dissipation
I sing these lamented auguries out of sympathy
and no one is listening but the early dews:
Your destruction cradles a raging tyranny
If I can only convince you to trust me on this
Unmake me a memory, pensive flower
Wither not as you strangle the crumbles of me
with your brambly veins and esoteric maladies
For I have grown abiding to your lingering graze -
A fastidious palette in my lackluster wallflower
poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If men could see the epitaphs their friends write they would believe they had gotten into the wrong grave.
Shadow of a WallFlower's Plea
Mind and heart
Working together
To cause this headache
Created from a weary mind
Being overburdened
Filled with
More than the mind can take
More than the heart can feel.
Mind and heart
Working together
For the greater good
The good of the greater?
You all look at me
And see just a girl
Just another one
With so many connections
(Not to the right things)
To the obscure
Mindless path.
Just a shadow of
What I used to be
Wallflower
Invisible.
Just a shadow
To you
But to me
The real thing.
I still think
And feel
The same way
As the wallflowers do.
Just now
Set in a different place
New connections you see
Old connections you don't
What I want
Is being blurred.
New connections you see
Old connections you don't
What do I need?
This headache
Burdening my heart.
Heartache
Headache
Heartache? Yes?
What do you know.
What I don't know.
Just please
Attempt to understand
My head hurts
More than my heart can take.
My heart hurts
More than my mind can know.
Attempt to understand
This broken plea
From the shadow
Of the wallflower
I used to be.
poem by Thamer Mager
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My Father Buried My Sister........Today
My father buried my sister today
My soul burns red with pain
No longer will I touch her face
Or caress her skin again
My father buried my sister today
God, what have I done wrong
To have her stolen from my arms
When my faith in you was strong
My father buried my sister today
Thank God I have another
I couldn't walk this path alone
Every breath is a struggle
My father buried my sister today
She was just 20
Searing, ripping, tearing ache
My emotions overcome me
To God above, how I pray
These words by her not repeated
My father buried my daughter today
poem by Pritisha Sardesai
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Reading the epitaphs, our only salvation lies in resurrecting the dead and burying the living.
quote by Paul Eldridge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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