At Last Poem by Ted Sheridan
At Last
Escaping the confinement of a tin urn, my ashes
are soon dispensed by a gentle sea breeze
All which remains is lifted like it had wings,
from out of the southeast, warmed
by the Gulf streams temperament;
I am not the slightest bit cold.
Scattered like a purified dew
on the face of a virgin sea
I am finally free…
2008 © TS
Thank god there was'nt a tornado you could have been scattered over Cuba- great humerous poem dispensed with wit, regards
there is more than just a sense of serenity in this work, becoming amplified straight through to the final line. yet, it (as sarcasm in some of your other pieces) covers a deep-seeded resentment that emerges here and there. personally it is a style that I like and just my opinion. overall, one of my favorites. -Tailor
A beautiful scene of tranquility you have created her Ted, a wonderful verse. Best wishes, Andrew
Hi Ted, I loved the picturesque poetic tone in your writing… How you negated the feeling “cold” as the foremost description of dying because now the dead is one with the air and water… beautiful words and expressions. Deva
simply gorgeous! I enjoyed the timeless energy of death that never dies
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/5/2024 12:39:04 AM # 1.0.0.1119
finally iam free..............very very well penned! !