Friday, February 24, 2012

Poem : Gravestones

The Nightingales sing their lullabies
Through moon cast shadows of darkness
Their black eyes fall on the graves of the sleeping
Comb over the eternal resting
The headstones of the dead stand together
Like jagged teeth in an unsmiling mouth
Markings of memories
Chiseled in stone by the Masons
Letter by letter, number by number
Stories of lives that were lived in this world
Some long and full
Some cut short by fate with all of its calling
Age, sickness, and betrayal
All play a part in this card game of life
For Ace’s and Eights are drawn by the living
But always collected by the dead
For in this land of gravestones
The raven patiently waits
Perched atop with his crooked hooked talons
He stands gazing to the gateway for the next to arrive
Throwing his dark calls of sorrow
Breaking the silence of first morning light
And the Iris drips blue colored sadness
As the sun climbs in the cloudless sky
Thistles spot a meadow in the distance with purple
These colors now melt in the afternoon heat waves
As the widow weeps and cries to the heavens
For the angels of marble surrounding these gravestones are unable to cry

Published at Catapult To Mars 12-9-2011

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