'Suicide' the headline screams
and everyone turns their head
too frightened, too shocked, too ignorant
To acknowledge that he is dead
Whispers in the corridors
as rumours slowly spread
An overdose, a bridge, a rope
a gun put to his head
A visit to the state mortuary
Where plattitudes are said
As slowly they draw the curtain
For a viewing of the dead.
Widow standing silently
As poetry is read
Mourners walking one by one
To the harbour they are led
Flowers scattered on the sea
A brightly fragrant bed
Whilst seagulls cry overhead
he is dead, he is dead, he is dead
An excellent write Derryn, I like the flow and the sentiment behind your verse
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thanks for the kind feedback - most appreciated!