Are The Worms The Only Ones With Ears?
I do not want flowersTo grace my grave;
Do not add to the killing:
Save
The young scents
And blooms
To become
Brides and grooms,
Mothers and fathers
Of the nexts.
Do not let them
Colour marble texts
For a few forgotten
Days
Of reaching for forlorn
Rays
Of unfelt
Sunshine –
Condemned to a lingering,
Wilting death where none shine.
I have seen many flowers
Cut
And soil piled over or coffin
Shut
On young lives
Grown
And then died
Unsown.
No one to replace them;
Living on in a parent's tear
Instead of a child's first cries,
Heralded by a father's cheer.
Lay no fragrants
At my head;
I cannot smell them –
I am dead.
Do not despatch
Any others to this place;
Let them grow,
Let them warm their face.
13:00, Thu. 16/04/2009.
Poetry by Mark J. Wood
Read 961 times
Written on 2009-04-16 at 16:51
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