I touch the gravestone
Warm from the afternoon sun.
I have come
Here alone,
Many a time
My mind
Full of rhyme.
But under the cold gravestone
There is neither sun
Nor rhyme.
I touch the gravestone
Warm from the afternoon sun.
I have come
Here alone,
Many a time
My mind
Full of rhyme.
But under the cold gravestone
There is neither sun
Nor rhyme.
On going through my poetry archives, I came across the below 2 poems. The poems can also be found on my Tiktok, along with many other examples of my poetry, https://www.tiktok.com/@kevinmorrispoet. You don’t have to have a Tiktok account to listen to my work.
Epitaph on a poet
A book of poems upon his grave
Could not the poet save.
The few his words touched
Failed to keep him from the dust.
Here Lies Lot
Here lies Lot
He knew not
Neither who nor what.
Yet there he lies
Forever lost to tears and sighs.
I enter the graveyard
Where men forget regret
While the living
Forget their eternal
Bed is made
In waiting grave
And choose to lose
Their day
In play
With technology,
Which makes none free
Of the eternal grave.
More often than not
I stop
By the graveyard plot
Where a soft breeze
Rustles trees.
Yet, outside this spot
I hear it not.