The depth of emotion in this write is stunning! I have to say that when I visit the graves of loved ones, I often stop at a random stone....one that looks unvisited.....and wonder what sort of life that person had. Who did they leave behind and why is no one ever here to remember? You are such a compassionate soul, Chris. A beauty of a write. Lydi**
Posted 5 Years Ago
2 of 2 people found this review constructive.
5 Years Ago
Dear Lydi**, your review is lovely. You do what I do. Ponder on the dead as we pass through. Trying .. read moreDear Lydi**, your review is lovely. You do what I do. Ponder on the dead as we pass through. Trying to fathom what their lives may have been like and remembering that in time we all pass. In the overall picture of things we are like dust motes in an ocean sky. All good wishes.
Chris
5 Years Ago
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Your compassionate heart felt the loneliness of a forgotten soul, and wanted to let it know it's not alone in this world. We are all connected and concerned for each other however apart it comes across. Your command of delivering emotions through words is superb, dear Chris. As I read the poem a tear rolled down my cheek.
Posted 5 Years Ago
1 of 1 people found this review constructive.
5 Years Ago
Dear Mrudula, thank you for your lovely review. That tear that trickled down your cheek caught the m.. read moreDear Mrudula, thank you for your lovely review. That tear that trickled down your cheek caught the morning sunlight in my thoughts and it sparkled like a diamond.
This poem haunts me. The first time I saw my father's grave, I was shocked to discover an unmarked grave. There was a metal plate on it about 1" x 5" that matched up to a map in the office. I didn't leave before ordering a marker for his grave. I visited once thereafter to make sure that it was perfect, and I have never returned. After that, I felt like the worst thing was to die alone. He died ten days before Christmas when I was four years old; and while I had no memories of him, I think his departure lived in my bones. I always hated Christmas because of it. I choked in my heart to read this one. It really is perfect.
Posted 5 Years Ago
5 Years Ago
Dear Linda, my granddaughter Beth is nearly 19 and lives with me. Her Dad died when she was ten mont.. read moreDear Linda, my granddaughter Beth is nearly 19 and lives with me. Her Dad died when she was ten months old and so she has no recollection of him. Like you, she felt the need to find out where her Dad was. No grave, but just a place where his ashes are scattered. We were on our way there with a bouquet when we passed this grave and I had this overwhelming feeling to place a rose on that particular grave. If I can do it, be sure that others will do the same. Your story moved me, I understand, because of Beth. Thank you for sharing your sadness. I felt it.
I live one block away from a Cemetery. When I was young we would play in it and ride our bicycles through it. There were always graves I looked at wondering who the person was in life. Those graves have wisdom. If we're sensitive enough we can get emotional when passing them. Your heart shows through on this one, Chris. Nice write.
Posted 5 Years Ago
1 of 1 people found this review constructive.
5 Years Ago
Hello Tim. I have to admit that when I am in a cemetery, I too wander through, looking at the stones.. read moreHello Tim. I have to admit that when I am in a cemetery, I too wander through, looking at the stones. Pondering on the lost souls, looking to see who is remembered and who is forgotten. These places just remind me, that whatever happens while we are here, we are all going to end up the same way in the future. Respectful sadness, as I pass through and yes, I am prone to sensitivity. Your review is lovely.
A poignant moment captured, Chris. I find myself moved by surprising things. The fact that I have always lived with my mind but still don’t always know what to expect from it is fascinating to me. The human mind/heart connection.
Near me there is a Civil War cemetery with rows and rows of unmarked graves. Well unmarked as in the identities of the men were unknown at the time of their burials. So many men whose families never exactly knew what happened to them. Your poem made me think of that place. And the loneliness of graves that are never visited. The graves of newborns. So many sad representations of the darker moments of human experience can be found in a grave yard. It’s not difficult to be moved when we take the time to look around.
I like that your poem kind of points to that importance of looking as a means of remembering the sufferings, or maybe just humanity of others. Such a small thing, but so meaningful in the end.
A contemplative, relatable poem.
Posted 5 Years Ago
1 of 1 people found this review constructive.
5 Years Ago
Thank you Eilis for sharing your thoughts. The Civil War cemetery near you with all its unmarked gra.. read moreThank you Eilis for sharing your thoughts. The Civil War cemetery near you with all its unmarked graves, I would probably find overwhelming to visit. Sometimes as I wander through graveyards I feel I am sucking up the souls of the dead. That's why I don't visit that often. Just now and again to remember friends and relatives. I never leave happy, or thankful that I have been. They are peaceful places, but so sad. I'm pleased you found my lines relatable. I like that connection.
The depth of emotion in this write is stunning! I have to say that when I visit the graves of loved ones, I often stop at a random stone....one that looks unvisited.....and wonder what sort of life that person had. Who did they leave behind and why is no one ever here to remember? You are such a compassionate soul, Chris. A beauty of a write. Lydi**
Posted 5 Years Ago
2 of 2 people found this review constructive.
5 Years Ago
Dear Lydi**, your review is lovely. You do what I do. Ponder on the dead as we pass through. Trying .. read moreDear Lydi**, your review is lovely. You do what I do. Ponder on the dead as we pass through. Trying to fathom what their lives may have been like and remembering that in time we all pass. In the overall picture of things we are like dust motes in an ocean sky. All good wishes.
Chris
5 Years Ago
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Albert, my paternal grandfather introduced me to Tennyson when I was nine. I have loved poetry ever since but did not attempt writing a single piece until I was 40. It's never too late to try somethin.. more..