Admiring death from afar;
A bicycle-shape closing
On the foot of a hill,
Where bird-drawn wings panic
Themselves at the prophesies
That spinning spokes inspire.
Meats curl their stiff smells
Through kitchen windows,
As steam blurs the cutlery,
And steaming oven-dishes force the thought
That, in certain instances,
Death looks better so much nearer.
Imagine there is no death in the world. what will happen? Chaos. So, death helps the mankind in several ways. A nice poem to read.
Mmm... if this means looking a nice juicy roast of newly-culled lamb then I guess I like admiring death up close! ! I like this, you've made the ordinary seem extraordinary..... (again!) HG: -) xx
I think I'll just admire your work, instead. t x
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You combine fascinating portraits with penetrating philosophical questions in these contrasting slices of life. I do enjoy your work Stug. It really touches the spot. love, Allie xxxx