Poèmes sur le thème : burial

Poèmes sur le thème « burial » sur Poets.by.

TristeDave Bonta

The forgetting of things past

I put on my best suit to go to the burial of an ordinary blue flower we do not live in the light and come to forget everything a coachman cannot know us where we were
AnxieuxDave Bonta

Fire tender

I look into the fire a whole city of light burials plague it every instant fleet hands rising as if from a man without name not concerned about sleep
TristeDave Bonta

Burial

we bury her in her fine clothes rain doting on the ice
TristeDave Bonta

Churchyard

a dead rose is tending some other air the ordinary pains us at the burial of a little boy
TristeDave Bonta

Employment

I had some experience the breadth of the whole meadow and we were all kin at the burial my hole my hand my feet
AnxieuxDave Bonta

Buried alive

on the wheel of occasions I am denied liberty a priest officiating in a cubical not one little door and no mind to play cards with a root
AnxieuxDave Bonta

Clerking for Death

Clerks go to burial like any other full or ill business. We talk gravely, eat ink and point.
JoyeuxDave Bonta

How the war ended

The war I mourn died yesterday of spotted fever. We sat late disputing at the burial.
ContemplatifDave Bonta

Menhir

We could not mend the great stone. I saw the king heal it with simple water and go to the burial of dirt.
TristeDave Bonta

Campaigner

going with the sun into the street I drink like a scholar at the burial of a book
TristeRyan J. Eilbeck

Calling the Vet

Of course they were doomed, born with a curse; the whole litter mewing, cradled by the torn out seat-stuffing in a hearse on flat tires. Of course we took them; a chance to be gods and healers, our internal boggle turning like mileage to spell "Mom." We boxed them on blankets and sweatshirts, fixed a water teat to the side within reach, administered formula feedings in a warm kitchen none of it mattered. The weak ones died before the debate on names. She was soggy-faced, her prize pick wrapped in a cardboard coffin box like a Christmas gift. It weighed less than a Beanie Baby, its yellow eyes shut beneath stuffed animal fur for always. I dug a hole out front with a stone and tucked the box under