Tombs where the living have breathed in sleep's sorrow
comforting arms go unnoticed in aching,
burnings of gold’s hush embed in tomorrow
drawing out darkness from mere mortal waking.
Rise, oh ye mist, so the spirit may borrow
tears for the journey when death rides its taking.
Open the skylight to chorus amassing,
brushing soft whispers upon loved one’s passing.



I smile so because I do love Ottava Rima and this is done perfectly to the form with wonderful 'ing' rhyme. I believe you have handled this prompt well and used brevity in all aspects quite poetically. Nicely done. A pleasure to read and enjoy. Best of luck in the judging. ~Pamela








thank you, suzi... i appreciate your support. i expected people who normally read me, to pass this one over because i tried something different. im glad you didn't. i like to challenge myself when i have the time.







43 old applause
