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Array ( [sid] => 185978 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => UNSPOKEN [time] => 2019-03-08 22:38:59 [hometext] => Our last words are seldom our own. [bodytext] => Gravestones tell stories written by friends; Seldom reflecting what we would intend.
One final marker with nothing to say; But vauge obscure platitudes chisled in grey.

It’s not death that haunts us; but silence we dread; The words in our hearts that will never be said!
What would we read on all those headstones If we sat down today and wrote words of our own?

Our graduate thesis, a final exam; Carved into stone by the blessed and the damned
Pray someone loves us before our last day. Lest we forever regret what they say.

“Dearly beloved”? Or merely “Here lies!” (So much for the loss of our lifelong disguise!)
Shall we have flowers, or weeds long forgot? Hearing the howls of the loved and loved not?

It’s only their welcome.. that rattling sound..
A chant from the dark and the cold of the ground:

With so little time from ashes to dust.
We love while we can.
And die when we must.
[comments] => 4 [counter] => 138 [topic] => 13 [informant] => softerware [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )

UNSPOKEN

Contributed by softerware on Friday, 8th March 2019 @ 10:38:59 PM in AEST
Topic: DarkPoetry

Gravestones tell stories written by friends; Seldom reflecting what we would intend.
One final marker with nothing to say; But vauge obscure platitudes chisled in grey.

It’s not death that haunts us; but silence we dread; The words in our hearts that will never be said!
What would we read on all those headstones If we sat down today and wrote words of our own?

Our graduate thesis, a final exam; Carved into stone by the blessed and the damned
Pray someone loves us before our last day. Lest we forever regret what they say.

“Dearly beloved”? Or merely “Here lies!” (So much for the loss of our lifelong disguise!)
Shall we have flowers, or weeds long forgot? Hearing the howls of the loved and loved not?

It’s only their welcome.. that rattling sound..
A chant from the dark and the cold of the ground:

With so little time from ashes to dust.
We love while we can.
And die when we must.

Copyright Â© softerware ... [ 2019-03-08 22:38:59]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: UNSPOKEN (User Rating: 1 )
by ingeniusidiot on Saturday, 9th March 2019 @ 12:20:30 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Dark is something I have to say that I dont think that
I have seen you write much of if any.
"Gravestones tell stories written by friends;..." words here give much to think about. Along the
lines that the impressions that we have left on others
defines the legacy that we leave behind.
I 100% agree to love while we can....loving is a
choice we each can make or not, but dying is
an inevitable part of life despite those of us that
truly believe we will live forever. Its an interesting
thought but not one that I would like to endure.
After a while you get to the point where you/'/ve
seen everything you want to see and are just
ready to see what lies around the next bend in the road.
Brilliant as always.

Rich

Re: UNSPOKEN (User Rating: 1 )
by JamesStockdale on Saturday, 9th March 2019 @ 12:32:40 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

What a well executed bummer :)
You never cease to amaze us....
I guess my headstone would say....

" Try talking behind my back now"
Great write!

Re: UNSPOKEN (User Rating: 1 )
by Rakerman1999 on Sunday, 10th March 2019 @ 12:02:02 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

I/'/ve always had a thing for dark poetry so naturally I love this. You are an excellent writer. Your rhymes never sound forced which is not an easy task.

Very well done
Roses
Raker

Re: UNSPOKEN (User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on Sunday, 10th March 2019 @ 06:31:06 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

this is about something in life that lays dormant in life
and yet about something everyone of us things about all the time.
How I knew my friend, their best part, perhaps even they
never knew that which they conveyed.

When even at a young age it is easy to miss a special person who reinforces a characterization of genuineness, not perfect, no far from it,
yet, that very best part, the exotic, as if
to truly live before the wind - "oh man, he was
a cheerful dude", and he looked you in the
eye, like you were his own brother whom he
dearly loved".

Peace!

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