Green Eyes Poem by Edmund V. Strolis
Green Eyes
When I pass your country meadow
When I travel that peculiar lane
I slow and glance and sometimes stop
To read a marker and to ponder a name
Was she a stunning beauty with eyes of green?
Did she stir in the hearts of many men?
Was her porcelain skin smooth and bewitching?
Did her smile shine in passion laced dreams?
Row upon row of strangers bound as one
Shoulder to shoulder in an eternal procession
Names, dates and prayers fading each day
Our brothers and sisters. I whisper their names
Love this...the 1920's photo...reminds me of the one time late beauty Clara Bow! What an amazing writer you are. i always enjoy your words.
Whispering the names of brothers and sisters matter a lot to maintain relationship. Amazing sharing....10
Hi Eddy, A poem of thoughts provoked by genuine curiosity, quite poetically expressed. Muses of a noble heart. Delving back into the depths of the heart with the past as the tool. Wonderful.10+
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/18/2024 4:39:37 PM # 1.0.0.1119
I've always believed what we owe the Departed is our remembrance of them. They either exist or don't exist, there either is or isn't immortality of the soul. But that is not our realm of being or knowing. What we can do is keep their memories alive. In this poem, you are performing that humane service to strangers, and you're using your poetic imagination to give substance to their vanished lives. You are bringing closure to lives abruptly ended, you are are guiding souls to a resolution of lost hopes, perhaps even reconciliation with death. Your poem resembles one by a 19th century Vietnamese poet, Nguyen Du, called SUMMONS TO THE SOULS. His has a similar sense of catharsis.
To stop at a cemetery is never a ghoulish or morose moment. I sometimes wonder in that country square, leaning crosses and each season fewer hands to clear the leaves and refuse to surrender a stone to the earth's bosom. If I happen to find myself at such a place. I reflect upon the style of the day.When they lived, loved and bought the hat that was the new fashion. Once vital things, important things reserved now for the living. Some had power and money beyond my reach but now so is a penny beyond theirs.So with penny in hand I am king of the present.