PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

A grave digger prays

For a plague bigger than before,

Tossing and turning with 

Dreams of dark art ceremonies,

He lays his head on dreadful

Pillows of villainy,

He wraps himself in his vile 

Sheets of deciet,

His eyes can be seen moving

And making his eye lids tremor 

With movement most unnatural,

Nocturnal vissions of health and peace

Give him no manner of rest,

He will bury us and only dream well

While we rest in heaven or 

Burn in the fires below,

He will provide for his family,

Wash his car,

Buy birthday presents,

With the cash you dearly departed with,

But,

We need him as much as he needs us,

We need his shovel

And his patience,

We need his understanding,

I, specifically, need him to 

Not bury me when

the time comes,

Reserve a headstone for 

The ones who will need remembrance, 

I'll opt to be burned 

And spare this world a stone 

Of my own,

He can sleep tonight knowing 

That somewhere out there is 

A pulse growing faint,

A breath retreating,

A body growing cold

And turning blue fresh blood

Into a mothers worst fear,

Clearly he is at ease