Mount Pleasant Cemetery Poem by Raymond Farrell
Mount Pleasant Cemetery
There is something strange
About naming a cemetery Mount Pleasant
After all, it is a place
Where the dead are momentarily
Mourned over
And then in time
In most cases
Ignored and eventually
After subsequent generations
Forgotten by the family
While strangers are paid
To cut the grass
And keep the weeds at bay
The person who thinks
All are equal in death
Has not spent much time
In cemeteries
High on the hill
And in certain select areas
With beautiful vistas
According to the brochure
Are mausoleums so grand
I began to wonder
If kings and queens
Had been buried there
Bold statements
Telling one and all
That the dominant positions
Held by the elite in lIfe
Are the same ones held in death
In a steady progression outwards
From the mausoleums and grand monuments
The cemetery spreads
Like some great city
Next, there are the tombstones
Of the well to do
Then the middle class
And finally on the flat ground
That sprawls out at the base
Are the smaller markers and plots
Of the less well to do
This trickle-down progression
Reminds me of the trickle-down effect
Some economists have been enamoured with
In the not too distant past
I highly doubt the real poor
Ever made it inside the iron fence
That separates the living from the dead
The less well to do plots
End next to the city street
Where horns blare
And the exhaust-belching cars
Remind us all that life
As sordid as it may be
Goes on in the usual
Mundane fashion
Oblivious to what
Lies on the other side
Of the fence.
(cont.) ...cemeteries (some) have been favorite spots in which i've gone bird-watching! tombstones make good perches for bluebirds and phoebes looking for passing insects to catch and KILL! to My PoemList. bri :) p.s. keep wondering about those kings and queens!
(cont.) ... I highly doubt the real poor Ever made it inside the iron fence.............SURE THEY DID! they ARE the ones mowing the lawn(s) ! ! ;) i mowed part of Mount Hope Cemetery in Rochester New York USA when i needed a little extra money. (cont.) ..
to keep the verb tense, as already used, and keep the nouns plural, i'd suggest changing Is the same one held in death to Are the same ones held in death. i'm liking the poem so far. but i DO like the name of the cemetery. [[ i may end up in The Dust Heap Cemetery! ] (continued) ...
Raymond, a well expressed commentary. The bones beneath laugh at the ashes. As they are still life.++10 Ps correct the heading
Thanks for reading and commenting. The correction in the title has been made. Thanks for pointing out the spelling error.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 10:46:51 PM # 1.0.0.1119
HI, Raymond. Having done student jobs as a grave-digger, I identified with this. In contrast to the egalitarianism of Elegy in a Country Churchyard, You begin with the fine irony of the name then reveal how the layout spreads from inner circle to those on the fringes. But you also make the point that it's all futile- graves, however grand or humble, are in time forgotten as life goes on. There are echoes of Ozymandias here. Nicely done.
Thank you for taking the time to read the poem and for your generous comment.