The sleeping sky is cloudy
Creating a veil over the lying minds.
Like a festival, the cemetery is alluded, and it turns into a hunting ground.
Open graves and pits -they lived.
Crowd of faces in their shades, to amazed preys.
Reefs and sheets they laid
On the unseen skins of the deceased,
Commemorating their ways,
In spite of the deaths unperceived.
Decorating – they decorate the undecorated, those lives that cannot be consecrated.
The clock ticks, and time’s fastened
In memories imprisoned.
Candles that could not light
their lives any longer,
Cries that won’t see them intact;
Yet – they restitute their hunger.
They, lying there wishing to smile,
But are thousand miles –
Though sighed at the benevolent pride.
Embrace their newest mild.
Authored by Prince Tardeh
wow, I was moved by your poetry here. I enjoyed the flow and the creative imagery you’ve painted here. Two (out of others) of my favorite stanza’s were 5 and 7… “The clock ticks, and time’s fastened, in memories imprisoned… “They (the dead), lying there wishing to smile, but are thousands of miles, though sighed at the benevolent pride, embrace their newest mild.” Thank you for posting this.
Thanks so much for reading and giving your feedback as well. I’m grateful.