Organ music played
electronic cliche.
We sat beneath a steeple
sharp as an ice pick
pointing the way to heaven.
Did I cry for her
or for myself?
Comments
-
Great descriptions. Short but powerful. I like how this ended with a question, that left me so I could think and sit about the situation in the poem and what it all meant, it left a little more mystery
-
I can learn a lot about Imagery from you! "steeple sharp as an ice pick, pointing the way to heaven" Ohhhh this speaks volumes to me.
Jo
-
This is one of the strongest pieces that I've seen out of you in ages!
Short, concise and each image has a specfic supporting role to the overall point of writing it.
The irritation of the music, against the stiffness of those attending pointing towards the heaven, where the very person you're mourning is residing.
Each piece a puzzle jig. Each one put together, fitting perfectly and making the image clear to your reader.
Or, at least this reader. ~my hat off to you lady~
(my condolences as well)
-
I presume that this is an obit about a female loved one? It's good, too. When you love someone and cry at the funeral, why DO you do it? Grief over their departure? A profound sense of loss? Fear of the future, or of an uncertain future? I personally think that it's all of those things and many more.
Also, I think may have found your best poem! (Just don't get too cocky, okay? I hate it when people do that to me!) yours - oce
Adding your comment:
