Poem 101, Sonnet 47: Graveyard Poem by Samer Madbak

No friend! You can’t lay foot upon this soil
This earth is mine, these endless barren meads
Are all but mine, these poplars and those reeds
Are but the harvest of my fallow toil.
This is my arid tilth and I will foil
All plunderers who come to pluck the seeds
Of vacuum, and uproot the gainless weeds…
This waste, my friend, must never be your spoil
And if I but your bold advance recoil
'Tis out of pity, that your rosy deeds
May not miscarry, nor your merit leads
You unto ruin. Let me not embroil
Your vestal buoyancy, so please vacate
Your schemes, my friend, elude a noxious fate!


Adelaide
August 24th 1993