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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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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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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One Hallow's Eve
There's a graveyard down, beside the glen
near where the shop man dwells.
The woods are deep and none dare sleep
when the banshees scream and yell.
That's where two brothers lay a trap
to scare their sisters dear.
Their sisters, returning from the dance,
by twilight would be here.
Some bones they'd found
from some dead beast
long buried in the bog.
They'd lit a Candle in the Skull
and practiced moaning loud.
There's a graveyard down, beside the glen
near where the shop man dwells.
The woods are deep and none dare sleep
when the banshees scream and yell.
The girls returning from the dance
found not what you'd suppose:
Some scattered bones, some ashes
and their little brothers' clothes.
The town folk searched the hills for days
For Henry and his brother John
They never found the bodies
that were buried in the bog.
There's a graveyard down, beside the glen
near where the shop man dwells.
The woods are deep and none dare sleep
when the banshees scream and yell.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Two Ghosts In The Graveyard
Two ghosts in a graveyard
Two stones in a row they are
Two lost in a blue car
Can't boast about who we are
New streets and iron bars kept behind the walls
Two ghosts in a graveyard
Down on a corner
A breeze of autumn
There's no tomorrow
The past forgotten
Well who writes the poem then hides it
Who lights the fuse then smothers it
Again
song performed by by Nine Days from Three
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Know Moonrise
I know moonrise, I know starrise,
Lay dis body down.
I walk in de moonlight, I walk in de starlight,
To lay dis body down.
I walk in de graveyard, I walk through de graveyard,
To lay dis body down.
I'll lie in de grave and stretch out my arms,
To lay dis body down.
I go to de judgement in de evenin' of de day,
When I lay dis body down;
And my soul and your soul will meed in de day
When I lay dis body down.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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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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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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Cemetery Dogs
I used to visit
And spend time with my uncle
At the graveyard
Where he patiently abides
His eternal stay.
I then began to visit
Cemeteries whose residents
I was unfamiliar with
In obeisance to the universal dead.
Once, at an old, unkempt graveyard,
Eerie like an old movie scene.
I saw several unfed skinny dogs
Running between huge tombstones.
I meditated on how
I should be as hungry to survive and live
As any other animal on earth.
Gazing at those cemetery dogs
Scavenging for something to eat,
I made a promise to myself:
I will never become a statistic of self-defeat.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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November Graveyard
The streets line up before me
Like a November graveyard
All cold, silent and grey
Yet still I feel warm inside
Still I hear a sweet sound
Some may think me mad
To walk through a winters rain
Smiling like I’m half possessed
Smiling like I’ve become detached
From the surroundings about me
They do not see my thoughts
Or hear what I think anyway
Why should I even care
About these inhabitants
Of a grey November graveyard
Winter is laying its cold hand
On every tree and garden
Stripping them bare
Still I smile regardless
Senseless to my surroundings
Perhaps who is to say
Only I know the truth
And the truth suits me
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Six More Miles
(g) oh the rain is slowly fallin,
And my (c) heart is so (g) sore,
Six more (c) miles and leave my (g) darlin,
Never on this earth to (d7) meet no (g) more.
Chorus
(g) six more miles (c) to the (g) graveyard,
Six more miles, long and (d7) sad,
Six more (g) miles and (c) leave my (g) darlin,
Leave the best (c) friend, I ever (g) had.
(g) oh I hear the train a-comin,
Bringin my (c) darlin back (g) home,
Six more (c) miles, to the (g) graveyard,
And Ill be left here (d7) all a- (g) lone.
Repeat chorus
This verse not on record, but in both early song books:
Left her in that lonely church yard,
Left my darlin alone,
Now Im sad, my heart is cryin,
As I wander thru life alone.
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Silent Prayer
I sat in a graveyard
and watched people visit there.
They stood above a grave in silence
and spoke to those buried there.
They said a silent prayer
for God their soul to keep.
Laid some flowers for their loved one
and a tear did weep.
Even as the years pass
you will always see them there
with their thoughts of their loved ones
who had long passed away.
4 May 2008
poem by David Harris
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Graveyard Train
On the highway, thirty people lost their lives.
On the highway, thirty people lost their lives.
Well, I had some words to holler, and my rosie took a ride.
In the moonlight, see the greyhound rollin on.
In the moonlight, see the greyhound rollin on.
Flyin through the crossroads, rosie ran into the hound.
For the graveyard, thirty boxes made of bone.
For the graveyard, thirty boxes made of bone.
Mister undertaker, take this coffin from my home.
In the midnight, hear me cryin out her name.
In the midnight, hear me cryin out her name.
Im standin on the railroad, waitin for the graveyard train.
On the highway, thirty people turned to stone.
On the highway, thirty people turned to stone.
Oh, take me to the station, cause Im number thirty-one.
song performed by by Creedence Clearwater Revival
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Our Brother John
He left Ireland in nineteen fifty two
Our brother John the man I barely knew
He was the eldest of the family
And the Homeland he was never more to see.
In life our brother John he journeyed far
He lived through peace time and he lived through war
In Korea with the Air Force of the U.S.A.
Far distant from the fields of Claraghatlea.
One of my sisters Mary wrote to me
She said our brother died with dignity
In death as in his life he showed his bravery
And at least now of his sufferings he's free.
Our brother John left two sons and a wife
And he worked hard all of his working life
Only in his sixties he seemed young to die
He was my hero when I was a boy.
From Millstreet thousands of sea miles away
Our brother John in a distant graveyard lay
And though I'd not seen him for more than thirty years
The news of his passing reduced me to tears.
He was the quiet man never spoke too loud
And of our brother John we felt so proud
In his death from his sufferings he found his release
And may he rest forevermore in peace.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Monster Mash
I was working in the lab
And light one night
When my eyes beheld
An eerie sight
When my monster from his slab
Began to rise
And suddenly
To my surprise
He did the mash
He did the monster mash
The monster mash
It was a graveyard smash
He did the mash
It caught on in a flash
The monster mash
Its called the monster mash
The laboratory in the castle eaves
And the master bedroom where the vampire sleeps
The girls all came from their humble abodes
To get a jolt from my electrodes
They did the mash
They did the monster mash
The monster mash
It was a graveyard smash
They did the mash
It caught on in a flash
The monster mash
Its called the monster mash
Zombies were having fun
The party had just begun
The guests included wolfman
Dracula and his little baby boy
The scene was rocking
All the digging sounds
Igor unchained ? ? ? ?
The coffin bangers were about to arrive
With a local group the beach boy five
They did the mash
They did the monster mash
The monster mash
It was a graveyard smash
They did the mash
It caught on in a flash
The monster mash
Its called the monster mash
Mmmm, what luck girl in the audience
Would care to dance with igor?
The monster mash is so ghoul
Muah ha ha ha
Muah ha ha ha
song performed by by Beach Boys
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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The Nicest Season For One To Die
The nicest Season for one to die must surely be the Spring
When the Parklands wear their Wildflowers and song birds pipe and sing
And young birds are chirping in their nests and the sparrows all the day
Are busy under the house eaves weaving their nests of hay.
If I'm not burned to ashes then why not bury me
In that old graveyard on the hill preferably by a tree
Where in Spring birds will build their nest and sing their songs above where I lay
Though what happens to your remains when you are dead doesn't matter some do say.
We all belong to Mother Nature and to her we must return sometime
The reaper takes the young and old and those in their life's
prime
And since I too must die I hope 'twill be when flowers are in full bloom
In the prime of Spring when the air scent sweetly of Nature's own perfume.
Bury me in the Graveyard on the hill where peace is to be found
Beside a tree where birds nest and sing content in their home ground
A quiet place free of man made noise when Spring is in the air
In Nature's bosom I will rest beyond any living care.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Our Voice
You may clamp the wings
You may chain the feet
You may snatch the sky
The heart can't still be caged
When the time comes to fly...
If you leave a graveyard
It will pull in vultures
When you make a garden
It gets you butterflies.
poem by Kingshuk Chakraborty
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