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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required OUR FRIENDS FROM THE UNDERWORLD © Soul to soul, our echoes roll Melancholy from the depth of my divine despair And a rush of blood which causeth bloodshot in the eye And they smell fear like a canine Filled with buried babies And they all wear the aroma. Never will her strong thought, Raise the dust of a vanished race A Chavez couldn't be raised like a Lazarus Instead, he became bygones But his love in the eye of a mother surfaces "e - motion" And comes out between her lips, Years refused to fade your memoirs in the mind of her, As the beam glitters on a sail, its clear, And showeth hope even in absolute desolation So it seem, As if to bring a son, her jewel from the underworld. Strange like the dark summer dawns His love is strong and dear in her heart As the remembered kisses of a darling after extinction, But his endless affection and heart of gold glimmering Like a ghost; glimmers on to us Perpetual moaning, strutting, but his remembrance Be totally lost to the forgetting world But not to an ever loving mother. Just like an infant crying in the night, he seem Sleeks into her bosom of love And with no language but a cry. No life fails as the grave Where they (the dead) firmly trod, they falter And failing in their weight of carelessness, Stretching lame hands of faith And waiting impatiently for judgement day. *Dedicated to our friend and son, Andrew Chavez and to all that lost a bosom. In loving memory of Andrew Chavez. VickWizzy Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP} Copyright © 10th Oct. 2017
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