Each Obituary I Read is Mine
a curtal sonnet
Each obituary I read is mine;
husband, wife, son and daughter abide where
the records of their lives do still exist;
motality belongs to time's design,
stitching out each minute without prayer,
and you are simply helpless to resist
the imagination of the Weavers~
when will Atropos become the slayer,
and with her sharpened scissors give a twist,
putting all your plans to naught as reavers
take your soul for grist?
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
