Forgotten

The grass has overgrown the weathered stone
Since they first placed his body in the ground,
And visitors no longer come around
With hope they’ll not, in turn, face death alone.

Did Life, for him, contrast this sorry end?
You’d never know by glancing at the name.
In fact, all resting places look the same—
A fate we’ll meet but never comprehend.

Once fragile flesh and memories decay,
The brush grows thick, and ivy starts to climb.
The lichen steals identities with time.
Precipitation wears the stone away.

Few living souls know whose remains are there;
Not even their descendants really care.

“Forgotten” was first published by Vita Brevis.

 

 

Lost

A long-abandoned logging road still winds
Through wooded hills, off paved, familiar ways.
There, careless motorists get lost for days
While navigating hazards of all kinds.

That I’m off-course is just a simple fact.
I blindly listened to the G-P-S,
And doing so resulted in this mess–
Lost and alone on this forsaken tract.

My compact car was never meant for this.
How soon until they locate my remains?
My legacy will be my lack of brains
And absence in the lives of those I’ll miss.

Then, just before the fear sets in for good,
I find my way out of the loathsome wood.

“Lost” was first published by The Writer’s Cafe Magazine.

 

 

My Little Man

I held you in my heart before I knew
Those dimpled cheeks and beaming impish grin.
Once quite the helpless creature, then you grew
Into the little man you are. And when

You speak with a maturity unearned,
Intelligence beyond your fledgling years,
Amazing me each day with what you’ve learned,
Your childhood much too quickly disappears.

Soon time will take this little boy from me–
Replace this child I love now with a man.
Whatever you decide you want to be,
I hope that you will always understand:

I held you in my heart when you were small,
And time won’t change my love for you at all.

“My Little Man” was first published by Westward Quarterly.

 

 

Randal A. Burd, Jr. is an educator, freelance editor, writer, and poet. His freelance writing includes assignments on the paid writing team for Ancestry.com and multiple online blogs, newsletters, and publications. Randal received his Master’s Degree in English Curriculum and Instruction from the University of Missouri. He currently works on the site of a residential treatment facility for juveniles in rural Missouri. He lives in southeast Missouri with his wife and two children.


NOTE: The Society considers this page, where your poetry resides, to be your residence as well, where you may invite family, friends, and others to visit. Feel free to treat this page as your home and remove anyone here who disrespects you. Simply send an email to mbryant@classicalpoets.org. Put “Remove Comment” in the subject line and list which comments you would like removed. The Society does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or comments and reserves the right to remove any comments to maintain the decorum of this website and the integrity of the Society. Please see our Comments Policy here.