Count the dead
and mark their dates,
rub chalk on marble
and names appear
until the next rain.
Tread on memories
which bend with grass,
bleed green
on shoes,
indecipherable scuffs
layered over each other.
Carry them
between the dead
and to the living.
None is able
to interpret,
so tongues cease.
Poemblaze Blog 
Love the mystery that is woven in the words….so tongues cease…brilliant!
I have not stopped to visit for too long. I always appreciate your work and this poem is spectacular.
that opening stanza is really interesting….a tally of the dead in chalk that disappear in the rain rather than etched as most stones in mine seem…nice cadence in this one…
You really capture the unspoken essence of the graveyard experience here. I like the memories bending like grass.
Thanks. Even in life, memories tend to bend, distort over time.
i love cemeteries and i love the rubbing on chalk on marble…chalk is something so warm..and i much like the contrast here to the cold and dead marble…bringing a bit of the past alive again
enjoyed this very much.
The opening stanza captured me…rub chalk on marble
and names appear
until the next rain….. enjoyed reading this.
hypnotizing..adore the way you treat words..’bleed green on shoes..’.there’s a certain taste of ungraspable eternity within. enjoyed muchly.
Hey Matt!
My poetry blog is still in blogspot. I haven’t made the transition to wordpress yet. You can find me here:
http://herwordsbloomed.blogspot.com/2012/04/napowrimo-day-24-laundry-day-ekphrastic.html
Yes, the dead are eloquent, in their way, yet there’s no talking between us. This has an especially eerie ring to me because the tone is so calm, the structure so lacking in melodrama. And of course, as always, never a word too many or too few.
Thank you. It’s always interesting to see what others will take away from a poem.
Evocative rich imagery – I especially enjoyed the rubbing chalk on marble – such a soft way of remembering
Thanks all for the kind comments.
The dead leave memories scattered everywhere. You can’t move without stepping on a memory. Evocative.
with each step
a memory flowed
through your words
I travelled
:~)
“None is able
to interpret,
so tongues cease”
Well this is a sad ending. Excellent words, though.
Cemeteries are a strange thing, monuments to memories that must fade. You captured that.
enjoyed this very much like the play of words you use in reference to how people treat & tread the cemeteries the many meanings that are conversation not necessary using our vocals but the tread and pacing the touching of gravestones .. etc. is what i felt expressed in this .. b đŸ™‚
This is filled with meanings, words woven intrinsically.
The first stanza is really interesting – I like that part the best.
No answers here, tongues of living and dead cease, questions arise. Only diligent research can explicate what lies between the names and the dates – or imagination woven with history to consider how short the human life, how unique each experience. Excellent work, Matt.
I like this one.