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The Futility of Vanity

She Pompous Egotist Delusionist Dyed hair groovy red Nails done midnight black Shoes, bought from the best stores Her fat Pug's clothes ,flashy as she Her spotless home, stands closed, clean, friendless On the cold morgue slab she now sleeps, endless July 23, 2019 7am PST Etheree 10 lines only. Syllable count must match lines.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019




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Date: 8/19/2019 11:00:00 AM
Panagiota, I've known a few people like this. I enjoyed your poem. Blessings, Susan
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Panagiota Romios
Date: 8/19/2019 11:50:00 AM
Susan...it's so sad to know someone like this! Feigning happiness and crushed inside. Your comment so appreciated, Hugs Panagiota
Date: 7/24/2019 8:30:00 AM
I didn’t expect the ending. A sad tale.
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Panagiota Romios
Date: 7/24/2019 9:38:00 AM
Alas, Richard. She has not met her fate, yet. But she is a real and tragic person on life's stage. Panagiota
Date: 7/23/2019 5:30:00 PM
wow, a strong etheree. It packs a punch!
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Panagiota Romios
Date: 7/23/2019 5:57:00 PM
Merci! All taken from real life, except she has not passed away...I could not bear living that way. The etheree is quite a disciplined form for me, that I love..... Hugs, Panagiota
Date: 7/23/2019 12:45:00 PM
What a miserable lonely life people like this woman must lead "on the cold slab, she now sleeps endless" a wise wonderful poem - great write panagiota. Hugs Jennifer.
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Panagiota Romios
Date: 7/23/2019 2:06:00 PM
I do know a person like this. She is not dead, but golly, empty and lonely. Glad you liked it. Hugs, Panagiota. Appreciate WOMEN Comnenting. The men already do! Panagiota
Date: 7/23/2019 12:36:00 PM
Ooh! So talented, dear Panagiota! Eventually this life ends.
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Kim Rodrigues
Date: 7/24/2019 5:48:00 PM
Sad that chaplains are no longer there. Preference of hard cold world... Thankfully I’ve never seen an autopsy! Our bodies...the sum of our parts. Our soul...to one place or the other. You must be a strong person!
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Panagiota Romios
Date: 7/23/2019 2:02:00 PM
Kim, I have seen it up close and personal as a student nurse. One minute a patient is here. Next second,gone. And me putting the body in a bag, Oh! And then wheeling it to the morgue in the hospital... A poem on that, ouch. Have seen one autopsy. We may look and think differently, but wow, all have the same insides, loosely speaking. PR hospitals here no longer have chaplains!

Book: Shattered Sighs