At The Terminus Poem by Valsa George
At The Terminus
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
Hush.... hush is this place, here no bird sings
The wind here sighs in silent pain
There is a muffled horror all around the place
Even the leaves chant a sad refrain
Here, Death sits on his imperial throne
Mocking at the relics of human glory
Zealous with the task of deleting the old
To script a new chapter, a new story
With a heavy heart I stand beside these wrecks
Thinking I too shall lie here, devoid of all opulence
Leaving all my hard earned possessions behind
Without a trace, forgotten by the populace
Vacancy alone greets my pensive eyes
Each life here is a volume closed down,
To be cast aside and eventually forgotten,
Or erased forever with no name or renown
A mournful cry! One of the best poems I've recently read! To my list
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
we both have not crossed each others pages in many ages now please do please lovely poetry is your yield
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
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.
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........
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/27/2024 6:51:04 PM # 1.0.0.1119
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!