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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Occasional Poetry - 2. Student Memorial

em>Passing by the memorial to students and alumni who passed away.

Student Memorial

 

Seven cold inches lie

upon them now;

their bricks, their stones, sink down

below deep white.

Smiling once, under skies

so blue all the

Earth seemed pale in contrast;

innocent, the

youthful brows furrowed by

the need to learn.

Beneath night's newest pale

cover, I still see

them all, lithe, laughing, there;

unaware they're

eternally eighteen.

em>Thanks to Mikiesboy for encouraging beta reading. All of the errors are mine, and mine alone.
Copyright © 2017 Parker Owens; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Parker, this is so poignant, heartbreaking. It is beautiful in its sadness. The thought of children dying is just so ... so wrong. I mean I know it happens, but it's so unfair. They never had a chance to be; just be who they were born to be.
Your poem is a further memorial to them because it isn't written in stone, it's written on your heart.
tim

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On 11/06/2015 08:50 AM, Mikiesboy said:

Parker, this is so poignant, heartbreaking. It is beautiful in its sadness. The thought of children dying is just so ... so wrong. I mean I know it happens, but it's so unfair. They never had a chance to be; just be who they were born to be.

Your poem is a further memorial to them because it isn't written in stone, it's written on your heart.

tim

Thank you for your comment, Tim. I appreciate your reading and reacting to how I feel about them, still. It lifts the winter in the heart to remember them as they were.

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Whoa! I wasn't expecting this. I read it twice, and then tears came. I got that this was very personal to you... and I'm not sure of the context, but you broke my heart. The thought of them being "eternally eighteen" says it all... Gary...

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On 11/06/2015 10:23 AM, Headstall said:

Whoa! I wasn't expecting this. I read it twice, and then tears came. I got that this was very personal to you... and I'm not sure of the context, but you broke my heart. The thought of them being "eternally eighteen" says it all... Gary...

There's a student and alumni memorial on the campus where I work. Passed by it this morning, and the melancholy of all the stories (I know many of them) spoke to me in there in the pre dawn darkness.

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The pictures started coming almost immediately (I didn't have to work at them like I have to sometimes) followed very soon after by the emotions. Memories (images) of young people at that time of their lives do seem to be sunlit (in every way) and the contrast with the monochrome drabness of deep winter is stark and if not actually upsetting, certainly a cause for your reflections.

 

In your profession, whether their lives were short or long, your memories will be of that time - I don't know whether that's a blessing or not ... They shall not grow old ...

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On 09/03/2016 12:42 AM, northie said:

The pictures started coming almost immediately (I didn't have to work at them like I have to sometimes) followed very soon after by the emotions. Memories (images) of young people at that time of their lives do seem to be sunlit (in every way) and the contrast with the monochrome drabness of deep winter is stark and if not actually upsetting, certainly a cause for your reflections.

 

In your profession, whether their lives were short or long, your memories will be of that time - I don't know whether that's a blessing or not ... They shall not grow old ...

No, they never grow old, even if they send their sons and daughters to us (much) later in life. One cannot help but reflect on how the color and sound of their lives here was irretrievably altered by war, disease or tragedy. Thank you for reflecting on this piece.

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 I couldn't catch it immediately, but after reading 'eternally eighteen' I read it again, slow this time....it was heart breakingly beautiful....!!

Edited by Aviana
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On July 5, 2017 at 11:36 AM, Aviana said:

 I couldn't catch it immediately, but after reading 'eternally eighteen' I read it again, slow this time....it was heart breakingly beautiful....!!

 

Thank you. It is heartbreaking to go by this spot, especially in that cold, bleak time of year when the first snows begin to fall. They never thought their names would be remembered this way. You have been very kind in being patient. I seem to have missed a number of comments this crazy summer.

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