Here I lay
Me
Down to sleep
Upon a grave—
One day
Mine to keep—
Beneath a blanket,
Plaid,
My mother weeps.
Surely,
I am worth more
Than the grazing
Sheep.
Yet, few ever stop,
Pause, or feel
That
Deep.
© 2026 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
First published on tristanrobertlange.com, August 18, 2026.
Tittu
-
Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: August 18th, 2026 08:03
- Comment from author about the poem: Part of the Truth, Applied collection.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 21
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Paul Bell, Fränz Müller, Kevin Hulme, Syd
- In collections: Truth, Applied.
Offline)
Comments7
A wonderful write my friend about remembering whether it be a grave or a poem buried. I have only once visited my parents graves and that with others because they wanted to go, they never visited their parents graves and my father used to say why go they aren't there. But he and I remember them always and like a poem memorized the book no longer needs to be opened. Well written my friend
Wow. Much appreciated, Soren. Your father’s perspective really stayed with me. I honestly had not considered the poem from that angle, but I find your reading fascinating. Thank you for sharing it, my friend. 🪦🖤🐑🙏
My pleasure my friend
Popeye's being sacrilegious - by the way, that's a terribly hard word to spell. He's growing spinach patches on the graves. Doh!
Orchi, I’m dying! 🤣 Popeye has been stripped of all landscaping privileges, Olive Oyl is pleading for mercy, and the cemetery groundskeeper is gathering empty cans as evidence. Another perfectly ordinary day in a glugger's life! 🪦🖤🐑🙏
I suppose unconsciously, we walk over graves every day.
I think I might be a bit peaved if I was buried in a field of sheep, but then again, once the sheep is sheared, a woolen jumper could come my way keeping me warm in the winter.
A bit of a win, win.
Paul, you’ve somehow turned burial arrangements into a sensible retirement package! 🤣 Peaceful surroundings, natural lawn care, and complimentary winter clothing...I may have underestimated the accommodations. Thanks for the laugh, my friend. 🪦🖤🐑🙏
lovely write my friend
Thanks very much, Norman...always grateful for your support, my friend. 🪦🖤🐑🙏
always welcome friend
I like this . Very good. 👍👻👻
Many thanks, Kevin...always appreciate your presence and support. 🪦🖤🐑🙏
It's my Pleasure.
Hi Tristan, when I've read this, the blanket seems an important part of the poem. I suspect it belonged to someone special, perhaps you already own the plot right beside it. I really should visit my own friends grave more often.
A well written, thoughtful poem.
- Syd 🍄
Much appreciated, my friend. The plaid comes from the actual moment behind the poem. I observed an unhoused person lying beneath that blanket in a cemetery, and what I witnessed stayed with me until it became this piece. I’m also sorry for the loss of your friend, Syd. 🪦🖤🐑🙏
Where are all the billions in that have gone before us!? Perhaps those whose remains are in parcels that have been used for crops have fed us over the years. mmm…
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