[Photo Journal/ A-Z Photo Story Challenge] T is for Tombstones in Melaka

Myra here.

I am glad to join Frizztext’s A-Z Photo Story Challenge this week with T is for Tombstones in Malacca. Last week I shared a few photographs from the Sultanate Palace. Here are a few more pictures from our recent trip during the Spring Break.

T is for Tombstones in Malacca

“Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public
doves, 
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.” 
― W.H. Auden

“A tomb now suffices him for whom the world was not enough.

[Alexander’s tombstone epitaph]” 
― Alexander the Great

“Swift has sailed into his rest;
Savage indignation there
Cannot lacerate his Breast.
Imitate him if you dare,
World-Besotted Traveler; he
Served human liberty.” 
― Jonathan Swift

“I never understood why when you died, you didn’t just vanish, everything should just keep going on the way it was only you just wouldn’t be there. I always thought I’d like my own tombstone to be blank. No epitaph, and no name. Well, actually, I’d like it to say ‘figment’.” 
― Andy Warhol

“I want words at my funeral. But I guess that means you need life in your life.” 
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading – treading – till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through – 

And when they all were seated,
A Service, like a Drum – 
Kept beating – beating – till I thought
My Mind was going numb – 

And then I heard them lift a Box
And creak across my Soul
With those same Boots of Lead, again,
Then Space – began to toll,

As all the Heavens were a Bell,
And Being, but an Ear,
And I, and Silence, some strange Race
Wrecked, solitary, here – 

And then a Plank in Reason, broke,
And I dropped down, and down – 
And hit a World, at every plunge,
And Finished knowing – then –” 
― Emily Dickinson, The Complete Poems

“A Parting Guest

What delightful hosts are they—
Life and Love!
Lingeringly I turn away,
This late hour, yet glad enough
They have not withheld from me
Their high hospitality.
So, with face lit with delight
And all gratitude, I stay
Yet to press their hands and say,
Thanks.—So fine a time! Good night.” 
― James Whitcomb Riley

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