Resting Place Poem, by Tristan Robert Lange, at My poetic side

Notice of absence from Tristan Robert Lange
Life is full of seasons. This is a season of transition for me, where I will be moving with my family to a new location. As such, with much logistics to consider, I am doing my best to keep up. Please know if I accidentally don't respond, it is not because I am ghosting or becoming distant. Once things settle after the move, I am sure life will return to some normalcy. In the meantime, and always:

Read 👓, Write ✍️, Rise 🌅, Realize 🤯.

Tristan 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦‍⬛

Here I lay

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.

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: 5
Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
In collections: Truth, Applied.

Comments +

Comments2

sorenbarrett August 18th, 2026 08:14
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
orchidee August 18th, 2026 08:34
Popeye's being sacrilegious - by the way, that's a terribly hard word to spell. He's growing spinach patches on the graves. Doh!

To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.