Headstones, like fingers,
point accusingly from the ground.
Weathered and crumbling,
returning to dust.
Just as human bones
these stones decay.
Time is written
in more than words
upon their faces.
But each stone marks
a human life and death.
When newly erected,
the clear cut words
mark the souls release
and the body`s death.
Peace and strange pleasure
in the Graveyard,
the death throws of the inmates
confirms to the visitor
they are still alive.
Author notes
Option 3 Graveyards
A contest entry
- Personification Contest by SensualWhispers.
300 points, ended August 7, 2007, 14 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Beautiful
I really liked this poem. You've done well and you actually chose the hardest of the 3 options. Excellent work. Thank you so much for entering and congrats on making the finliast list. Kassie -
WONDERFUL!!! You should win GOLD with this write. Sorry, I haven't written lately but, I'm not feeling well this days. I do hope you and yours are all doing well.
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Excellent use of words in your poem, a very impressive write on this subject. I've often looked at ancient gravestones and wondered what sort of life the person buried there had and quite often it's a very short one. Some great observations here - good luck in the contest.
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Thank you Ann, I enjoy walking around old graveyards
too. This one is in my village.
Dixie
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