After reading the work by Elle , '' A ramble of non poetry ''. I started to respond , but , well , I felt that I should put my response in to a work of mine.





PAUPERS GRAVES

Ramsgate , municipal cemetery, is full now

No more room , only room fore paupers now

Unless prebooked and paid fore in advance

A paupers grave each grave takes seven one on top of the other

No grave stone bearing there names , just a stone , with a number

You'd trip over the stones with no names

If don't look where you step you'd come a cropper

Looking at them short square stones with just a number

Maybe wonder who lays there , what lifes they had , what they did

When they walk the streets you walk today when they were a live

Were there lifes short or long? did they work , what kind of work they did

If any

Were there lifes good or ratchet , evrey day a struggle , each day a battle

In there war to survive one more day , till one day they died , became nameless

Laying among one among seven , buried , with out a name sharing a

Number on a squat square tripping height stone

When no more room fore a single paupers

Then it's off to Margate , rude box , lade in a trench doubled stacked

As I walk Ramsgate , cemetery , I look around and down and cant help thinking

Ken D Williams

The Dyslexic wordsmith






Poetry by ken d williams The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 523 times
Written on 2013-07-04 at 23:21

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Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Nicely said, Ken. Poverty has a way of turning one into nobody, even before he or she dies.
2013-07-06


Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
I'm sorry Ken I missed this - I tend to post at odd times and miss when people post - we have a similar graveyard here - not as stark as you describe - I used to work as a registrar - so I was responsible for births, marriages and deaths, I used to love my job before it became about numbers - There is a field of hope - no matter the names - I for one will be cremated because I have no wish to be buried - obscure reasoning which is private to me - I have walked among the unnamed dead - and they are still part of us - I really believe that - threre is a peace, perhaps not always discernible but it is there - bless you Ken, I know you as a man of heightened sensitivity and thank that you are a dear friend

Elle x
2013-07-05


countryfog
No doubt we too have our Potters Fields but pretend we don't.
I can't comment any better than James Wright did in some of my favorite lines of his:
"But the dead have no names, they lie so still,
And all the beautiful are blameless now."
2013-07-05