Flames Of Fury Poem by Bernard Franklin

As I close my eyes, I can smell a mixture,
of sweet Mahogany and formaldehyde.
Then the slamming shut,
of a huge metal door.

Giant gas burners eject their poisonous offerings,
and so crystal quartz ignites a budding flame.
A quiet ‘whooshing’ noise intensifies,
as the flames change from golden yellow,
to an incandescent blue.

In just a couple of minutes,
unbelievable, unbearable heat reaching over
five thousand degrees centigrade.
A tiny part of our world that’s now
hotter than our sun.

Flesh at this temperature would literally vaporise,
bones would pop and crackle as they disintegrate.
Gold becomes liquid almost instantaneously.
black acrid smoke appears,
perhaps a new pope is born? .

This molten fire controlled by man,
enclosed and hidden to the worlds eyes,
eliminates all virtue and sin.
After sixty minutes all that is left of
this intense blast of heat,
is five pounds of dust.

With a tear in my eye I am relieved,
and grateful that it’s over.

As I have just cremated my father.

For my pain and discomfort,
I receive a brand new urn,
filled with warm ash.

and remembrance