screaming
groaning
no precipice
just some small death on
the other side of
town.
A sad silent
loss
anonymous -
quietly slipping
away a lost
footing on
a cobbled street.
Death - a sad sack
the
last heavy breath
now the
hopelessness
of
a cold touch - on his
headstone
Names engraved
on cold
marble an
immortal script.
An empty vase
sits whilst
somewhere
nails screech on
a
blackboard
A small death
the other
side of
town.
1 comment:
This is a very beautiful, sad piece of work, Roger. "Death, a sad sack" - what a wonderful image of the bathos that is death for an individual in most circumstances. "An empty vase" and "somewhere a nail screeching on a blackboard" - the lonely sights and sounds that gain significance when your senses are heightened to the lonely state of the human condition. Sorry, this sounds very pretentious but I hope you understand what I read in your poem.
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