When I was Dead
my casket lays in view the shoreline is as it always has been teeming with life
i am but a corpse now i've always wondered what would that be like
the casket rough-hewn made by hand white sails again a blue sky
wearing my best italian shoes a sunsuit just right for travel my death is recent
all is new to me i don't know what is expected i stand apart from the others
the brook babbles dashing over rocks clashing in its' bed
on its' way to the sea everyone seems to be going somewhere pushing and shoving
i'll be staying right here my journey over i met the challenge
as best i could no more typos no more misspelled words
as i have received no instructions i will stand silent trusting in time all will be clear
the chips remain on the table the game over my mood dour
laying in the sun i am toasted roasted
i never liked tanning i turn over stretch
exhale rays burn i rest on the crook of my arm
my death was not the result of a bullet instead it was the slimy thing i ate
August 14, 2016
9 comments:
You can make a thought i wouldn't want to think of into a thing of beauty - a casket full of humour, love, effort..life lived as only - YOU xo
This is an intriguing perspective to write from. I like the standing apart, waiting for instruction, or direction........staying right there, in the familiar till things become clear. Cool write, Annell.
Ha! Reminds me of the third act of Thornton Wilder's OUR TOWN--but your images are totally unique. I love the switch from worrying about writing correctly to toasting in the sun and then thinking of how death occurred. I haven't tried this perspective at all. Very surreal.
Hi, Annell. I like what you did with the words. A very interesting perspective. Hope all is well with you.
Pamela ox
very interesting and intriguing point of view....
very interesting and intriguing point of view....
the brook babbles dashing over rocks clashing in its' bed on its' way to the sea
everyone seems to be going somewhere
pushing and shoving
Sigh... beautifully poignant...!!
Lovely word-pictures and ideas. With the subject, the result should be morbid - but it isn't.
As a compulsive editor, I hope you will take it as helpfully intended if I mention that 'its' as a word is already a possessive, so it doesn't take an apostrophe. The only time one comes in is to denote 'it is' - it's like this!
Grief is a slimy thing we have to eat when a loved one leaves us dead ourselves. How do we cope? Writing does help a bit.
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