The growing mound is
now empty of life .
The Spark has died.
No weeping or wailing,
No beating of breasts,
No rituals of mourning mandated,
Or expected.
Just the cleansing of flesh.
And the promise that time moves on.
The growing mound is
now empty of life .
The Spark has died.
No weeping or wailing,
No beating of breasts,
No rituals of mourning mandated,
Or expected.
Just the cleansing of flesh.
And the promise that time moves on.
Lucinda Rose 
nice poem well done from kevin enjoyed it.
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Generally speaking, I don’t “do” poetry. (I always feel like I’m missing something. Like I don’t quite speak the language. I never seem to “get” it like other people.) But every so often I come across a poem I like. And I like this one! I don’t know that I get all the nuance, but I think I get the “feeling” of it, if that makes sense!
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That makes sense.. I am delighted to get the feeling of the poem.
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Simple yet affective, I like it!
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Thank you so much… I try to keep things simple in my life and in my poetry…
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hello from kevin and thankyou for subscribing to my blog and i hope you enjoy the poems thanks and your poetry is very nice
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Thank you, so much.. I have been exploring your site. It is lovely,. =)
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