No ratings.
A poem about death and rebirth |
End of Life and New Beginning By Forest Dweller A poem about death and rebirth Edited by Livingston County Writers & Critics Support Group By a broken street curb weary Winds blow through the glass-strewn dirt Wild dogs prowl through brown, dead weeds All sound fades inert No man sees the ruined world Life has faded to a plague that drained all life Into this blood-soaked dirt Buildings stand A skeletal wand that beckoned death From thermal nuclear skies Nothing stands The winds blow through homes A screen door lashes, so forlorn No one left to see our revealed lies A small child’s picture rests in blood-stained grass where wild dogs prowl Scavenging, sick as to the blood-soaked dirt they sink Once a city filled with pride Tampered with the building blocks of physics Untrammeled by theistic harbingers of monstrous cosmic shakings The merchants plied their wares The churches called the dutiful to praise the rock of ages They sang of resurrection and eternal peace for forlorn, rootless soul Politicians promised jobs Health and hope for a future that seems certain Then while children played on swings and workers paved the traveled streets Darkness fell of darkness draped in blood A vortex opened changing Earth into a sphere where life could not endure Children vanished, stillness came Naught could be seen except the blood-red deadened grass No time for the siren’s wail Man and wife could not embrace as emptiness imbued the world With galactic stillness Remains of humans walk the streets in undead groveling Their brains fried, feeling pain Knowing nothing as their limbs fell into red deadened grass Red deadened grass loomed An experiment in death come awry Could man’s knowledge save him? The city sits o silent sentinel Beckoning living beings from other galaxies into the sphinx that man constructed Somewhere in galactic space A scientist ponders the ruined city and wonders What is this red deadened grass that sucked all life into the vortex? He looks into himself and stares into galactic space Can life emerge from this black hole? Or has the sphinx sealed everything in death? Somewhere the scientist hears an infant cry and suckle on his mother’s bosom The sweet eminences of life come forth as new life grows pulsating, breathing through the void Word count: 357 |