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Falling Dirt
| Open Poetry #41 |
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Falling Dirt |
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poetninoit Junior Member
since 2007-06-10
Posts 20 |
Falling dirt A crowd swarms around watching, attentive a hole in the ground The rock standing in the way is bearing her lovely name The wind whispers a familiar song "Please, sir, do not be long 'cause I can't bear to see my mom cry Please hurry so her eyes stay dry" The remnants of her soul are boxed up in the gaping hole or spread around in the rustling fields giving the crops the best of meals The wheats inherit a soul so pure and made of gold but I gain nothing but blisters And an unrelenting memory of digging a hole. [This message has been edited by poetninoit (12-07-2007 02:44 AM).] |
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| © Copyright 2007 poetninoit - All Rights Reserved | |||
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ThisDiamond Member Rara Avis
since 2002-02-22
Posts 9353Michigan, USA |
Welcome to Passions Stunning write. |
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poetninoit Junior Member
since 2007-06-10
Posts 20 |
Thank you very much. |
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Yvette Junior Member
since 2007-12-08
Posts 19Texas, United States |
I really appreciate the wheat being golden by her being rested there. I appreciate the longing with a sardonic twist. I enjoyed this very much. |
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Artic Wind Member Rara Avis
since 2007-09-16
Posts 8080Realm of Supernatural |
Welcome To piptalk!!!!!!!  ARCTIC WIND |
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