In the flames of grief
where all is not as it seems
even wood doesn't burn
yet, from out of the ashes
evil smokes up a storm
and nothing around me
is familiar anymore
every grave represents death
the Angels they cry
on the cold gray stone beds
my heart now empty
my pulse still strong
yet no one to speak to
because they are gone.
-
Author:
Teddy.15 (
Offline) - Published: October 6th, 2026 00:14
- Comment from author about the poem: This could have been a Halloween treat 🤣
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 14
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy, Paul Bell, Tristan Robert Lange
- In collections: My Raven Collection.
Offline)
Comments6
Good write, enjoyed
Thank you dearest Norman. 🌹
Most welcome
Grief cries from stone statues in this poem Teddy. A sad write and hope you are doing okay.
Yes I'm fine dearest Sorrenbarret having lost my father this year I am now one of the billions of people without parents it's a shock even though I'm 51. I still get overcome with sadness that I didn't phone him more. 🌹 💜
It was evident that the poem was about such loss.
There’s a damn desolate grief here, where the strange image of wood refusing to burn makes the whole world feel wrong, as though even the rules of reality have collapsed along with everything the speaker knew. The ending is the keeper for me, because the strong pulse against the silence of everyone being gone leaves the speaker trapped inside a living body with nobody left to hear it. Excellent work, sweet Teddy.
Most humbled that you saw my soul in here dear Thomas, thank you. 🌹
Dear, Teddy,
It's the horror of grief that makes this poem so effective, as if composed in a graveyard on the 'grey stone beds' of loss. Excellent and then some. My sincere condolences on the passing of your father.
Fond regards,
Tony.
Thank you so much dear Tony, I'm always warmed by your lovely words. My father and I didn't have the greatest of relationships but I loved him with all my heart and he knew. 💜
I know it's not, but it does have the halloween effect going on.
Losing your parents is a tough one, leaves a void that can't be filled.
Hope you're pushing through.
My muse has been missing for quite some time but yes dear Paul, I'm fine my friend. There is a sort of therapy when you write and share with those you can trust on the internet. 💜
😂 Teddy, “could have been”? You’ve got graves, crying angels, ashes, evil, and everybody’s dead. I think you qualify! 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
lol I'll repost it then! Awe thank you dearest Tristan 🎃👻 💜
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