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November Graveyard (2) | by Miss Belua
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November Graveyard (2)

The scene stands stubborn: skinflint trees

Hoard last years leaves, won't mourn, wear sackcloth, or turn

To elegiac dryads, and dour grass

Guards the hard-hearted emerald of its grassiness

However the grandiloquent mind may scorn

Such poverty. So, no dead men's cries


Flower forget-me-nots between the stones

Paving this grave ground. Here's honest rot

To unpick the elaborate heart, pare bone

Free of the fictive vein. When one stark skeleton

Bulks real, all saints' tongues fall quiet:

Flies watch no resurrections in the sun.


At the essential landscape stare, stare

Till your eyes foist a vision dazzling on the wind:

Whatever lost ghosts flare,

Damned, howling in their shrouds across the moor

Rave on the leash of the starving mind

Which peoples the bare room, the blank, untenanted air.


November Graveyard


Thank you to everyone who faved my art! :)


A link to my gallery; La Galleria de Luce


822 faves
Taken circa 2017