Walking among the Graves and the tumble-down Urns,
The Plots are silent.
But each in their way are filling the air with noise:
The Echo of Dramas, Hope, Family Strife, Weddings, Divorce,
All Sagas of a life once lived,
Each ingrained in the Lichen-Grey Stone long since hushed.
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Author:
Kevin Hulme (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 26th, 2025 21:14
- Comment from author about the poem: When in a Graveyard recently, I looked at all the Gravestones and thought of all the lives there, well lived, every one a story. Every one a ‘MiddleMarch’. Though not keen on Free Verse, this is my one attempt.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 14
Offline)
Comments3
Oh I hope it is not the last, I see that there is some room and some use for free verse as well... but the Graveyard, yes. It is a place of honour and privilege, even intimacy; in stark contrast to its cold and often bare ambience. Much enjoyed this Kevin 🙏🏻👍🕊️
Yes a Graveyard always makes you Contemplate about life.
Thank you
I enjoyed this read, we often forget once people are buried, that they had a life and so much wisdom, knowledge, experience etc has been buried with them, lovely read
I remember an old African saying that goes ‘When an old man dies, a library burns’. All that life experience he had I expect.
Thank you for Reading.
You are very welcome
Our lives tell stories. Great work.
Thank you.
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