A Man’s Grave

Quiet day – slumber..
Wasting away it’s own time.
For neither wind nor song of bird should rile this place –
Nor cricket scamper across its green.
Here lies majesty – an earthen treasure –
Of love and life and mind sublime –
So that only the rose shall slowly open its petals –
to receive the sun.
And there within such beauty rose –
a captured love of mindful prose –
that he of past somehow arose –
to project the love –
to protect the rose…..
Duty done, now can doze –
In quiet grave – we suppose…
As all creation stands afroze,
In awe and honor of all things being –
Edgar Allan Poe’s……

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© 2015 John Allen Richter
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Roses that grew in enchanted garden,
Where no wind dared to stir, unless on tiptoe –
Fell on upturn’d faces of these roses
That gave out, in return for the love-light,
Their odorous souls in ecstatic death –
Fell on upturn’d faces of these roses
That smiled and died in this parterre, enchanted
By thee, and the poetry of thy presence.

A snippet from “To Helen”
by Edgar Allan Poe
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About johnallenrichter

I am an aspiring Poet and adorer of life, a conqueror of nothing. However I am a champion curator of truth and friendship and hold both of those things most dearly to my heart. Welcome to my mind's eye. I hope you will enjoy what you may find and please know that you have a friend here. View all posts by johnallenrichter

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