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Jeff Siegel Poems
Stones On My Grave
Bury me with stones on my grave Allow me the comfort of eternal sleep Keep my tomb even, unlike that of a cave For a shallow grave makes the devil weep.
I love you when you are near. As seaman love the morning clear. I love you still when your far away.
Fourteen More Days (A Poem for Aya)
In fourteen more days, you will have been grown. Gone from the hearth that has always been home. Is it my heart or fear that wish you to stay? Only time can say in fourteen more days.
When the sun escapes the heavens grasp, And the day that flew now seems to lapse, When clouds that billowed now stretch and fray, It is then my world turns Saturnine Gray.
Daughter of Love
Daughter of love, given to me Wrapped in a bundle Of warmth and pink clothes. Cautious am I
A Place Called You
I live in a place called you Seen by many, and known to few. It's path is paved, yet hard to get to Where feelings are veiled and love is pursued.
What have you brought me? What language will you speak? What century do you come from? My anima of blue mistique.
The Ghost In My Pen
The ghost in my pen Has again let you in Painting my longing on paper.
A Sepia Day
I needed a smile, And none to be had, Faces as sunless
Listen To her Sing
Oh how she sings, In beautiful refrain, When caustic clouds have gathered, And the day begins to feign.
A Reverie In Rain
The clouds grow thick And start to mass As your perfume stains my pillow. While outside the winds blow foul
A Wish For You
If I could be loved, and only by you, Gone would be the gallows of loneliness, And the footsteps of despair, I would bid them adieu.
The Night Is a Thief
In the soltice of my mind The sun sets closer on longing and grief. A fortnight of Sundays, And still I find,
Pretty You Are Not
Pretty you are not, In the times I think of you. When one was a number I only viewed, Then you came and showed me two.
Comments about Jeff Siegel
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Stones On My Grave
Bury me with stones on my grave
Allow me the comfort of eternal sleep
Keep my tomb even, unlike that of a cave
For a shallow grave makes the devil weep.
Bury me in the warmth of the year
Forgo the cold and bitter season
Tell me your love was always sincere
To hear of such rhymes would be to my pleasin'.
Do not bring grief upon my tomb
But speak of events that has shaped our clan.
Permit the interred your breath of perfume
And recall our days as woman and man.
Allow my bones the easement of shade
The thick and sturdy cottonwood tree.