Learn more about other poetry terms
Noi non sappiamo Quando ci salutiamo Perché domani Appartiene solo a Dio in cielo Noi non sappiamo
Monument stands alone barren, yet never gone, silently telling stories from the past. thousands of years of biting winds
Dear Samantha Green, Lying in repose in a cemetery Guarded by a red oak tree, Planted by an Indian chief to honor His lost daughter who died in the pursuit of love, How would you feel
Once, in a graveyard full of light Filled with tombs and cement angels like Crowded teeth in a fish’s mouth Stained green by time Laughter and music and love notes
The shadows of horsemen on leather steeds draw near; With the sounds of gallops in the heavy thick fog; These faceless reins have come to ride you into an unknown fear; Out in the distance, cries and screams fade away; There is no noise to hear, b
Tombs, tombs, thousands of tombs - As far as the eye can see. The blood of patriots spilled - To water Freedom's sacred tree. How brave they were, O God indeed, To fight and die for me.
His face was like looking at time itself Everything moving froze in his wake A chilling daze spread throughout his cheek As if one had now crossed over his own cemetery His nose was curved up into a vicious beak