Pine Mountain Cemetery
Pine Mountain Cemetery
Precious flat acres needed for crops
Never held our passed on kin. Mountain
Steep climbs to a carved out flat to make
A place for eternal rest or restlessness,
Whichever best fits the departed.
Stones are catch as catch can.Families
Differ on choice, size. Some are carved,
With doves or angels, some blank. Names
Of Howards, Hensleys and the like number
Most. Just a sprinkling of those fotched
On by spouses ring odd in the ear.
Over there a fancy black stone traced
With doves, urns and fancy letters. Don’t
See how they ever got it up this here hill.
But his proper, flat country wife was set.
So there it is looking as much out of place
As that pretty, foreign woman always was.
Come with me and we will climb this hill
Day by day and find more stories than
The rocks and trees have time to tell.
Each stone, each dip tells of a soul
Who made a mark, but most now lost.
Come, remember with me.
11 thoughts on "Pine Mountain Cemetery"
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Love poems about graveyards. Especially love the line, “A place for eternal rest or restlessness.” Learned a new word (“fotched”) from your poem.
If things go well each poem will relate a story about one of the folks now resting . . .
I’m with you on that mountain! I’ll perch on a rock while you tell me your stories!
thank you Gary and Kathleen. I use your words to spur me on when inspiration lags.
Each dip tells of a soul who made a mark…..just loved it!
Great description. I like rest or restlessness and how the gravestones tell stories.
Oh my. You took me home in the first two lines. (Always a climb on decoration day.) Love how you weave into it the idea that our home is a melting pot of people and place on “this here hill” and I just love your idea of cemetery stories in verse.
I’m in love with the third verse!
The storyteller voice is so strong and welcoming. What an education I received with “fotch!”
These poems have me remembering so many events in my life. You tell these stories and take many of us on journeys we can never forget. I cannot thank you enough…
My grandfather and my dad’s cousin lived in Pineville and had stores there for decades. I remember seeing THE BOOK OF JOB at Pine Mountain State Park. Nice pictorial description.