The word

The word

A Poem by Courtney
"

The word

"
Say the word "death.''
Some shudder
Some cry
Some even glare at the sky
As if to dare God
To take the ones they love
The hate simmers for the one above
But think deeper
Look closer
You'll see there's no need
For death is beautiful
Not hideous and crude
For it is the passing stage
For those who lived
Who cried and now who died

© 2013 Courtney


Author's Note

Courtney
This is how I see death, and yes I know when you lose someone you love you're the one who feels dead. But I try to think of it as one door closing and another opening.

My Review

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Featured Review

Hello Courtney. You list your age as 12 but your writing reflects an older, more experienced persona. You are quite mature for your age. When I was 12 all I thought about were movie magazines and playing ball with my friends on the street. However, I did love books from the time I was a toddler.
Your poem is noteworthy: well thought out, thought-producing, and I like it when poems are written with some rhyming.
Steppenwolf.

Posted 7 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Courtney

7 Years Ago

Thank you for taking the time to review my work, I appreciate the complement. I look forward to revi.. read more



Reviews

Hello Courtney. You list your age as 12 but your writing reflects an older, more experienced persona. You are quite mature for your age. When I was 12 all I thought about were movie magazines and playing ball with my friends on the street. However, I did love books from the time I was a toddler.
Your poem is noteworthy: well thought out, thought-producing, and I like it when poems are written with some rhyming.
Steppenwolf.

Posted 7 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Courtney

7 Years Ago

Thank you for taking the time to review my work, I appreciate the complement. I look forward to revi.. read more

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Added on January 21, 2013
Last Updated on January 21, 2013
Tags: The word

Author

Courtney
Courtney

Seymour, IN



About
'Sometimes I'm terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants, the way it stops and starts.' -Edger Allen Poe more..

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