Sink into packed earth
sealed with a tear
or willow rain
a sometimes summer sun
may tickle
butterfly distractions
but the stone still burns
because the heart will suffer no grave
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Get the winners of the first 12 Clarity of Night contests in one place! Extras too!!
Listening for the words in a quiet corner of the night. The fiction, poetry, and photography of Jason Evans.
About Me
- Aine
- Collaborator and night owl.
Past Contests
- "Elemental" Short Fiction Contest
- "Uncovered" Short Fiction Contest
- "Silhouette" Short Fiction Contest
- "In Vino Veritas" Short Fiction Contest
- "Ascension" Short Fiction Contest
- "Running Wind" Short Fiction Contest
- "Whispers" Short Fiction Contest
- "Restless Dawn" Short Fiction Contest
- "Halo" Short Fiction Contest
- "Endless Hour" Short Fiction Contest
- "Silent Grey" Short Fiction Contest
- "Lonely Moon" Short Fiction Contest (with Anne Frasier)
- "Midnight Road" Short Fiction Contest
- "Two Lights" Short Fiction Contest
The Official Compilation!
Get the winners of the first 12 Clarity of Night contests in one place! Extras too!!
Categories
- poetry (193)
- fiction (180)
- vignette (106)
- serial (59)
- lyrics (56)
- personal (52)
- insights (33)
- thoughts (31)
- cemetery (26)
- forest (17)
- nature (16)
- remembrance (16)
- writing (16)
- humor (15)
- beer philosophers (13)
- boating (10)
- experimental (8)
- movie (7)
- music (7)
- INTP (6)
- beatitudes (6)
- Ulrich (5)
- photography (5)
- Nami (4)
- night conversations (4)
- cemetery reflections (3)
- stream of consciousness (3)
- Clarity Notice (1)
- emotion study (1)
Visitors
~clausum~
16 comments:
The photographs themselves speak so much. Nature consuming their identity, cutting all their ties. Taking away what was meant to last for eternity. It seems cruel, but I also wonder if setting them free might be a better gesture. Free of all burdens all the ties.
Beautiful.
The pix remind me of Carl Sandberg's I am the grass.
beautifully eternal!
I will comfortably
let the frost
push the stone to the fore
while I sleep
and cry no more.
There are simple stones at our natural burial site called Hundy Mundy.
Engraved with just a name and two dates they say just as much as all the tall, expensive and stony monuments that adorn many more 'formal' graveyards.
By the time those markers are covered, the ones who grieved have also been long gone.
Nothing lasts forever. Not us.
Not the stones.
You got me with the first line, Sink into packed earth, sealed with a tear...it just feels so final.
Looks like you've been having some fun in cemeteries again.
A touch of melancholy in words and pics.
I think this is your most beautiful (and melancholy) poem to date. The first line grabs and the pictures also tell the story.
Every line hypnotized me... that last line took my hand and looked me straight in the eye... brilliant.
love,
me
These make me think of lost civilizations. The way the rainforest blankets the ancient mesoamerican cities. Perhaps in a few millenia, people will uncover our cemeteries and try to understand our culture's values.
Aniket, I don't know if letting them sink away would be best. It just feels wrong to let them go. (To me, at least.)
Sarah, thank you. :)
Shadow, much appreciated. =)
Walking Man, that was seriously beautiful.
PhilipH, there is something about the expression, the personality, shown in different monuments that appeals to me.
Jean, that is certainly true. These stones last a couple hundred years, then fail. There doesn't seem to be any way to endure longer. Even the most famous of us only survive in caricature.
Catvibe, thanks for the sentiment. :) I've been missing the cemetery posts. We finally made it to a new cemetery.
Charles, definitely a touch of bittersweet.
Karen, thank you! I'm glad this one shines.
PixieDust, it sounds like you've been on similar walks of reflection. Thank you for sharing the experience. :)
Aine, maybe the act of burying these stones will actually preserve them. Treasures for discovery long, long from now.
amazing photograps, and a beautiful poem. thank you.
Szelsofa, it's an old cemetery tucked on the edge of Amish country. Thanks for the warm wishes. :)
This touches me beyond words...
Complimenting each other in a way only a bittersweet melancholy knows how to.
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