deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Cortage
Lie they now on a wheelbase stretched
the box to hold all lifes pursuits
mourners and "my black tie where is it kept"
the shiny coffin resting their best suit
Memories that rise and teardrops fall
the wardrobe of discomfort
the solomn line of cars that crawl
the elegy of all your triumph
The hearse so smart without a finger mark
a mobile phone bursts into life
the reply just whispered quiet
it goes to voice mail with a snick
The line with measured tread
passes soon from birth to grave
in joy and sorrow as you transit
how fast that time did flit
Reference ( The butterfly )
the box to hold all lifes pursuits
mourners and "my black tie where is it kept"
the shiny coffin resting their best suit
Memories that rise and teardrops fall
the wardrobe of discomfort
the solomn line of cars that crawl
the elegy of all your triumph
The hearse so smart without a finger mark
a mobile phone bursts into life
the reply just whispered quiet
it goes to voice mail with a snick
The line with measured tread
passes soon from birth to grave
in joy and sorrow as you transit
how fast that time did flit
Reference ( The butterfly )
Published 30th Jan 2020
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likes 3
reading list entries 1
comments 4
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The author encourages honest critique.
30th Jan 2020 2:08pm
Most impressive, Slip! Your progress is remarkable! I added the hashtag for you.
31st Jan 2020 3:28am
This is so somber, the rhyming of the lines accentualtes the sense of ceremony, a final march to the ending, it does have a Loiise Gluck quality, as well, that delicate suggestion of utter grief..
Anonymous
- Edited 31st Jan 2020 7:19am
31st Jan 2020 7:18am
Your inspiration poem "The Butterfly" to me reads as though if you don't believe in the process of something manifesting, what can be manifested won't come true.
Slip, when I read your poem and its title, it has a lot to say about the presentation of a funeral and its procession, but little to say about the person in the coffin. It's almost as if what life was lived was not worthy of celebration - just a procession of events that a person endured, none being dreams that came to fruition. There was no transformation into a butterfly so to speak.
A thought provoking write. Good luck in the judging.
Slip, when I read your poem and its title, it has a lot to say about the presentation of a funeral and its procession, but little to say about the person in the coffin. It's almost as if what life was lived was not worthy of celebration - just a procession of events that a person endured, none being dreams that came to fruition. There was no transformation into a butterfly so to speak.
A thought provoking write. Good luck in the judging.
31st Jan 2020 8:43am
I just considered the shortness of the poem and the transitory life span of the butterfly and the sentiments of the wish
It seems unrelated except in my head (the flit) like this we must submit
It seems unrelated except in my head (the flit) like this we must submit
