Here I see a hundred moss grown graves
There is a mournful silence that deepens
Through the weed grown path, no traveller walks
The place, some morbid warning portends
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valsa, another well-written poem in quatrains. your command of english, as i've probably noted before, is deep and wide and nuanced. is it your first (or second or third) language? as to being remembered, i take comfort in the conviction that God sees and knows us (this God who is love, who loves us as we are, as a good mother does) and that all this world is passing anyway as it is spirit that is eternal. -glen
" Each life here is a volume closed down To be cast aside and eventually forgotten Or erased for ever with no name or renown" . A profound philosophical thinking's inference drawn by a stoic's mind and it is the ultimate truth. Thanks for sharing.10++ points.
graveyard last stoppage of the physical body oh this body enjoyed several delicious foods with daylight, night dark, moonlight..... but now the yard, there is soil, ants, insects, worms..... oh these all will enjoy this body severely! ! ! soul o, no, there is not the good soul into the grave....yeah but the bad one will surely suffer........
The thoughts that you've expressed in your poem, have been frequenting me almost regularly these days. A beautiful poem that talks as it proceeds! The last stanza is poignant, worthy of being recited several times over. The poem goes to 'MyPoemList'.10/10.
All powers and functions of a person hide away in graves where a mournful silence deepens. In a place of morbid one may feel a muffled horror all around the place where leaves chant a sad refrain. Death sits here on his imperial throne mocking at the relics of human glory. The terminus of lives has been so touchingly inscribed by you having a great philosophy. Marvelous work. A 10.
Valsa, a walk through the graveyard is something we should all do periodically- - would keep our egos deflated and our love of life sharpened and encourage kindness to others and treasure all the people we meet on a normal day. This poem is what I call LITERATURE. It is the stuff of classics and treasured in libraries and reread many a time. 10++++++++++++++++++++++++ and onto my fav list
we both have not crossed each others pages in many ages now please do please lovely poetry is your yield
Each life here is a volume closed down, To be cast aside and eventually forgotten, Or erased forever with no name or renown.A cemetry being a secluded place where we are drawn to the meaning and meaninglessness of life the verse is thoughtful.....10
A mournful cry! One of the best poems I've recently read! To my list
The poet's mournful depiction of the suddenly closed volumes of the lives whose relics are mocked at by Death makes an eerie silence which we felt while reading Thomas Gray's Elegy written..... A beautiful rendering of the Covid19 atmosphere!
Haunting elegy reading this chills me of the mortal reminder of my own impermanence. The graveyard is the ultimate reminder of our meaningless, and a reminder of what time we have now to make with our lives. This is one of the best poems on the subject I would definitely love to see it posted in a book. Thank you Valsa for this gem.