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Tag: death

The Past

Posted on 13/10/2020 by Dove Grey

A yellow moon glowers, Over my homely mansion. A werewolf stalks on the pavement level. Here in the trees are the huge boughs, Of the neighborhood. We dwell, in the night-time, Above the ground, In a complex of closed apartments, Made of wood. The sickening dim light of the streets, Shines up weakly at the…

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The Son’s Confession.

Posted on 02/04/2020 by Dove Grey

One day I’ll be famous, with power and great wealth, I’d be in perfect body of sound mind and good health. Everyone will like me, I’d be of good repute, If a person contradicts me, my butler will refute Them, and put my reputation on a silver pedestal, No-one knows what else I do so…

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la fine dell’amore

Posted on 14/02/2020 by Dove Grey

He was sworn against divorce, While she had had two marriages already. They were together for only eight years. In his seventh decade he gave her a scooter. She accepted, and rode around on it, Through the mountain roads of Italy, Floral dress, light shoes, Half-dome helmet, no lipstick. Just like in a festival film!…

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from GIBO

Posted on 11/11/2018 by Dean English

5 thoughts of death sit on my mind the snow weight on the beech boughs and the Pine needle arms, dripping white water to the wild roses, you can interpret it, any way, you want the crunch of snow, dissolving under foot, the dormant stumps of bald blade, the old man’s’ beard, and vines, offering,…

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What’s worse, being dead or dying?

Posted on 27/04/2017 by Mark Prisco

Pine cone; you; red shoes, grass/New moon/pale   sky, so cool  – evening. Think:   if you go does Day/ Night also? disappear   as if it never was even here.   Hold on,

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Letting Go

Posted on 26/04/201727/04/2017 by Lesly Frances Finn

This cold, cold earth last resting place I heard your voice you kissed my face then all was gone without a trace in cold, cold earth This hard, hard ground no need for sight for those who lie in this dark night not to see again the sun, the light in hard, hard ground Yet…

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death and after

Posted on 13/01/2016 by Mark Prisco

Those weeks alone in her flat were difficult. It was cold and I got sick after the funeral. I had sat on a plane for hours, straight and by the time I wound the tortuous roads in- land to up-stream Latium, I had been on the road, for about 40 hours. It was good to…

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