C'Est La Vie - Poem by Michael Tucci
A vast lot of abandoned souls.
The cherry-orange tinge of rotting carcasses of
Past technological advances. Then, the "WOW"
Of their time, now forgotten.
Once shiny, proud, peacock-esque
Now piled like cord wood reaching for the
Sky while melting back to dust.
The sounds of time adrift on the
Breeze, yield a slight, shrill hint of
What once was. So subtle that most
Care less to even listen, if they were
Actually open to the surroundings
What happened to these hulks, now
Prostrate, silent, in the windswept dust
Of their final decomp slumber?
Who cares? C'est la vie…
Comments about C'Est La Vie by Michael Tucci
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You