At My Own Funeral

a sad write

Bells. Cold air. Damp earth.

Carrying my own coffin as if

divided and watching myself from outside.

Throw masks into an empty grave.

I have been caught leaving a shop with

a bag of stolen apples.

Surrounded by dropped faces and lost tones.

The air cold. Earth damp. Bells.

Reviews

[SHEEMA HUQ]

the funeral of a petty theif with impeccable taste in apples, no doubt.... what an unusual and provoking subject and read, quite original

[Firestone Feinberg]

A sublime composition. Fresh. Invigorating. I love the apples. --David

[David Scott]

Sad yes. Still, it is a good thing to "Throw masks into an empty grave." You caught yourself I think. Yet, you now can go on living without the corpse chained to your living flesh infecting all that remains.
I loved this poem. Short and simple in word choice, but full of depth and challange.

[Nautili]

interesting write, sensory-filled and melancholic.

[sithlordjp]

The bells provide the perfect bookends for this most intriguing piece. Well done, and thanks for sharing.

[An owl on the moon]

Haunting tones... this is a brilliant darkness that makes the reader long for more.

[Holly Mason]

lovely use words put well together
thank you for sharing

[Jack...]

I like the simplistic nature of this piece and the stolen apples adds just the right bit of life to this poem about death. Very nice.

[Ken Simm.]

Stark as sad should be. I understand the surprise element of the stolen apples. It does throw the reader out, I feel. It does add an extra, as you say surprise layer but I still feel it takes you too far outside the main melancoly drift. Everything else fits so well as to be almost gothic.