On Easter Sunday

by R. Saint Claire


by R. Saint Claire

Poetry challenge: Easter poem.
In our Sunday coats we stay.
A sunny day! When coloured
Eggs and sweets we crave:
A visit to the family grave.

Up the thorny path we're taken
To the hill where marble crypts
And busts of men (their ranks forsaken)
Rest in shades of obelisks.

An actor who revered the Bard’s
Now dust beneath a stately stone.
He held his art in high regard.
For all his lust, his name’s unknown.

Frozen ‘neath a sheet of glass,
A child’s grave, and on display:
A bear, a boat, a horn of brass.
All wait forlornly by an urn
Through light and dark for her return.

White flowers on a verdant mound
Strewn with weathered, withered wreaths,
Push their buds through rain-soaked ground
Past tokens of a former grief.
Each Fall their pretty promise ends
For Death’s vain hope to rise again.

5 Comments to “On Easter Sunday”

  1. This was good rhyming poetry. In a blogging world where rhyming poetry is harder to find, like hunting for birds in a jungle to snap. A feast for the eyes, even though the topic was a melancholy one. Keep up the good work! -Fellow poet

    • Why, thank you kind sir. I like to write in standard meter and rhyme schemes. I based this on Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken” (the structure, not the subject matter).

      • I myself enjoy writing rhyming poetry. I never can seem to muster enough courage to write non-rhyming verse- thinking this sends chills up my spine. I don’t know quite yet why. Maybe I am living in a decade not my own. finding rhyming poetry which simultaneously makes sense is a joy I cannot express in words! 🙂

    • Thanks a lot. When Harry announced the Easter Challenge poem, I instantly thought of how every Easter Sunday as kids we visited our family plot in Laurel Hill Cemetery in Philadelphia. Those graves I describe really exist. If you don’t know it, Laurel Hill is a Gothic revival wonderland.

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