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Post by LeoVictorBriones (poetremains) on Dec 9, 2009 14:36:56 GMT -5
They have shiny caskets—
waves of lumpy wax,
cooper and bronze,
lilac and orchid.
It’s not as if they mock me—
but I do think it is not true
that no one knows death
but those who have died
because I can taste it,
aluminum and chalk,
rubs against you teeth,
sticks to the roof of you mouth.
I take a left on Washington Drive
past this place,
simply called:
Casket and Monument Shop.
Up the block past three stop signs,
the contrast of red and white
is not like the sunset or the lake at twilight
but does remind one
of the certainty of things.
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Post by Marion Poirier on Dec 10, 2009 17:38:15 GMT -5
Leo, I'm not sure about S3
if you are referring to caskets.
Death can have a taste, a scent,
a feeling; can't describe it as it
is not always the same.
In this stanza you need to change
(2)you to your - typos.
S5 is a nice visual, I'm thinking
you have arrived home,
also agree a little mystery is good.
Nice poem.
Marion
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Post by mfwilkie on Dec 13, 2009 3:51:09 GMT -5
Leo, I trimmed this a bit and suggest a few changes.
I like your draft. Maggie
I do think it is not true
that no one knows death
but those who have died
because I can taste it;
aluminum and chalk
rub against you teeth,
stick to the roof of you mouth.
I take a left on Washington Drive,
pass a sign that reads
Casket and Monument Shop,
pass three stop signs when it hits me,
how the contrast of red and white
is not like the sunset or the lake at twilight
but does remind one
of the certainty of things.
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