Death is a lump in the throat.
Acute awareness of the inanimate,
bareness in extreme...
cold, full and frozen.
But so to go,
we all depart in time,
journeying to our own ideas.
Into a land of mirrors,
enormous spheres of light,
or white effigies
of personalities that
shade our eyes
in dazed visions.
Then we reach out
to touch.
Need contact with
the other side.
Cold kisses of loves
still ghost.
The quietness of deaths bride.
Death is tears
on a staring cheek,
glazed oversight
of weakness...
thoughts of past returnings
that lay buried
without comfort.
Memories lay heavy
and wear with strain
all passing thoughts
within a seething brain.
Death is...
Sally Plumb
‘…all passing thoughts // within a seething brain.’ Excellent poem Ma’am … Poet Rabindranath Tagore [RNT] … described in 1 song ‘O Death / You’re my Shyam / Yum’ [uttered by Radha the romantic consort of Krishna] 10+ Ms. Nivedita UK
wonderful poem and colorful images here...land of the mirrors....tear on a string cheek and that final stanza of yours...is simply amazing....keep up the good work sally
Very eloquent definations of death which is only a breath away from all of us. Only words have the power to survive. Excellent. Kind wishes, Sandra
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Memories lay heavy and wear with strain all passing thoughts within a seething brain....... wat an lovely presentation...memories are heavy n not easily forgotten... good work
Thankyou, Mehta, for you kind comment