When dead am I one cold day,
underground I’ll finally behave.
Into a box then earth it caves
around me and my stiffened face.
Though my body rots slowly gone,
they’ll be some memories or songs
that pass from a preacher’s charm
that find ears where they belong.
As color from the sky it disappears.
As the ground receives hurtful tears.
I will be exploring death so sincere,
oblivious to what once life revered.
My epitaph inputted won’t be
that what I take underground.
A hollow echo swallowed down;
on a headstone as if some crown.
Verbiage will fall from some lips.
Such exchanges in talks I’ll miss.
I will suffer in final hours from
moments when I didn’t forgive.
Even to wear red it won’t phase,
as in my eternal rest I do lay,
a festive song and laugh filled day
that I pray will be on full display.
I’m no sad tale anyone can tell
so don’t bring somber dark veils.
Don’t look down as if into a well.
For life to be lived is more a hell.
Don’t let my grave be a sad place
where I’ll be eventually to be erased
by the exploding sun in outer space;
find bliss in song around my grave.
Wonderful writing!
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Many thanks!!
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My pleasure!:)
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Very fine poem, reminded me of a poem by W.B Yearts!
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Thank you Tanya. That is extremely nice of you to say. 😁
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My pleasure, wonderful work!
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Reading your bio, we share many horrific hardships…perhaps why our writing has depth. Nice poetry and art is amazing. Thank you for the visits to my page. I will be back to visit your words again.
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Thank you Dorianna. I will be visiting your page as well 😀
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You can always count on a good song. Nice writing.
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Yes. Yes you sure can. Thanks dude.
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