Wednesday, January 19, 2005

Today's dose of maudlin poetry

Death is the smell of an old woman's perfume,
wet flowers and upholstery. It has a stiff hand
and ungiving skin, painted the color of life
it's sad imitation, paraphin and a sleeping pose
wearing glasses with hair trimmed too short.
Smiling is forbidden. It would be life and not
the supposition of. Memories melt and a last goodbye
is unreal. Choke up the lillies and roses, eat
parlor candy and bide time until you can talk in dreams.

**

Poetry is lost upon me. However, I figured I'd throw it on here to record the day.

2 Comments:

Blogger Gretchen said...

I'm not sure if you're set up to be notified about new comments, or if you check slightly older posts for comments, so I'm going to announce here that I will now be commenting on your dreams post, so go read it. :)

11:20 PM  
Blogger AnonymousCog said...

Some good prose. I mentioned and linked to you.
AC

5:37 PM  

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