Solemn Sunday Song Poem by Christopher Fladd

Blue satin Sundays
Draped on constant houses
Of those whom sleep endless
Forever’s an earthy afternoon

Sitting over a buddy’s body,
Nothing’s fair in war or peace.
Red satin in the casket haunts me,
As solemnly I take my leave.

Where is he now? In everything
Is he proud of what the poet sings?
On hallowed ground rock bares his name,
His consolation prize in life is fame.

Carry forward in remembrance
And speak to him in penitence,
But to question that which is
Has led many a fool to doom.

Loss of body’s the continuance
Of life we’ve only known in sequence.
Intangible light and darkness
Led us living through the gloom.

As the seamstress masters laces
As politicians master faces
The dead know no places
As existence is their home,
Only the living are alone.