We're left with
this: the hardness of
bone, the space where organs
used to be, life's music itself stopped,
silence reigns.
Tonny Maude has us writing cinquains expanded (5 lines with 3-5-7-9-3 syllables) over at dVerse Poets Pub. This is another in my bone poems series.
That is indeed our common destiny; but what then, if anything?
ReplyDeleteAmazing that you have written something so full of meaning in such a restrictive form.
I liked your less restrictive cinquain form- thanks, Tony.
Deleteour physical selves will thus be reduced, but I have hope for more for my soul. Nice write!
ReplyDeleteHere's hoping...
DeleteYes, this is reality indeed.
ReplyDeleteAnother from the bones viewpoint.
DeleteOh dear,. I hope not!
ReplyDeleteI've been fascinated lately to write from the perspective of bones and this is part of that series.
Deletedang...this has a really sparse feeling to it...
ReplyDeletealmost like relics of a past age...or past person...
where there was once life...
I'm not sure what's so intriguing about looking from the vantage point of a past person but I find it so lately.
DeleteEventually it will all come to that! Nicely Mary!
ReplyDeleteHank
We know so little...
DeleteRealistically powerful poem, Mary!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Gabriella.
Deletehopefully we sang a bit on the journey that others remembered
ReplyDeleteI share your hope...
DeleteThe bones - a deep symbolism in those.. So much power in those words.
ReplyDeleteOur scaffolding and structure.
DeleteI cannot count this a failure. The bones, the spaces, the music to be echoed on and through themm.. A beautiful poem!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Susan. I changed one word based on your feedback, failed to stopped, and like it and appreciate your thoughtful comment.
DeleteIt makes my heart skip a beat to get positive comments from you, MZ.
ReplyDeleteWell done Mary, very well done.
ReplyDeleteSad that the music has to stop...
Kind regards
Anna :o]