sheena blackhall

(18/8/1947 / Aberdeen)

A Picnic in the Cemetery


As you spread your sandwiches out on the table stone,
Why not read the lichened inscription beneath your lunch?

In life I was eaten up by pride, ambition, envy
Rest on my resting place. Be thankful for birdsong.
I have no heart left to be stirred by it

My name is a half way pause between moss and ivy
Not worth a glance or a thought, a second look

Be thankful for today, the warm sun on your head
Resting light as thistledown on the nettles

When you walk off over the grass
Reflect on the breath that enters and leaves your body

It is slight as air, it is nothing, it is everything
It is the most valuable thing you’ll ever possess

Submitted: Monday, February 24, 2014
Edited: Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (A Picnic in the Cemetery by sheena blackhall )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. THAT HUGE BLACKOUT, MOHAMMAD SKATI
  2. What The World Told, Adeosun Olamide
  3. Pebble, The Astronomer
  4. This World, Spiritwind Wood
  5. With Pride We Remain, Spiritwind Wood
  6. The Perversion of Christian Ideals, Brian Johnston
  7. Giver Of Light, Spiritwind Wood
  8. spinach makes me teeth feel chalky, Mandolyn ...
  9. Ode to knickers, Ruth Walters
  10. This Really Blows My Mind, Electric Lady

Poem of the Day

poet Wilfred Owen

All sounds have been as music to my listening:
Pacific lamentations of slow bells,
The crunch of boots on blue snow rosy-glistening,
Shuffle of autumn leaves; and all farewells:

...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]