This poem was originally published in June, 2021. This is my first published work. I am reposting it on my blog, because hundreds of new followers may have not seen it. Together, we have come a long way in six month(ish). Honestly, I’ve received so much positive feedback over the past year that I just had to send this emotional poem out into the world again. Let me know what you think in the comments. Click here to read the original post.
This poem is published in the poetry anthology, Its Not Easy by Poets’ Choice.
Six feet under sixteen tall lilies, Man considers eternity.
Eternity’s ears hear no more the lamentations from Man’s regrets.
Regrets forgotten even by sixteen green stems, but Time—the grave gardener.
The grave gardener mows not, plows not, and sows not; He litanies.
He litanies as earth buries her one truth: Man wastes with worms.
Worms tunnel the clay and mud and brains and veins of Man’s forgotten pains.
Pains the gardener annals away, to be read on heaven’s judgement day.
Judgement day, asterisk of eternity, hour saved to open graves.
Graves untilled will break open—Man soars above lilies; He’s heaven’s chosen.
Follow Me for More Content:
“People can shy away from topics because they are hard, and it can be easier to call them dark, rather than truth, or an aspect thereof. I believe that it is in the dark that we can really start to understand the true nature of our world and its people.” —N.L. Blandford
“…I hated him and his kind. I hated his affluence, his expensive clothes, his chiseled looks, and the arrogance he was born too. But most of all, I hated the power he held over me, his assumption of authority, and the truth of his superiority.”