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Open Poetry #48
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Tomer
Senior Member
since 2002-06-28
Posts 1168
Michigan

0 posted 2013-08-06 08:37 AM


A small cottage rested up the hill,
from the winter road of Shawn's redemption
the fear,
that undying sin,
restless, bearing it self to a string of branches
that rested their laurels on the face of natures grace

October,
brisk air
the sun; unwavering in its desire to rise each morning
where the picture of life
took a long look
at the body; fetal state
lifeless, cemeteries newest gravestone

Just up north
where dinner was warm
pot roast, baked peas, and mashed potatoes
in line with one another
centerpiece of the kitchen wood table

A few drinks passed
Pinot Noir in each glass
bottle by bottle
Midnight passed
his car broadened its lights
pressed on the gas
drove down the grove of trees
that bristled over the quiet street

His eyes became faintly quiet
his hands slightly eased off the steering wheel
and in a split second,
the spirit of man became soils right hand
barreled over,
57 chevy, cream colored
laying over his body

The man standing over him,
eyes still bloodshot, wincing
his headlights made the lifeless body hard to see

Just a simple farmer
father of three
Jessie, Leigh, and Brooke
his wife recently deceased
breast cancer; stage four
thirty years, anniversary every Fall

The sound of music
engine still revving
and a man who rejoiced
now froze like the crate of fresh air
awaiting arrival from the nearby bridges lake

Fragile,
life and the human spirt
where fragments of time
can spell the shade of gray
on a mans long face
the softly departed
his brown, scuffed boots still tightly knotted
wondering why they weren't brushing up against the fields grass that early Autumn day.

© Copyright 2013 Tomer Fried - All Rights Reserved
EmmaRose
Senior Member
since 2011-03-02
Posts 1376
Midwest
1 posted 2013-08-07 11:56 AM


the pain comes through in living color regardless, that death is spoken of so eloquently
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