Death and the dead
Thoughts invade my head
Of Moments
That went back in time
Days of old, down the line.
To a period in my youth
Where death visit the hood
The good died young
Back when respect was paid
In the living room,
of ones dwelling
Floral withes
Upon an eterance indicated
Death had been there.
Family, friends and the curious
All gathered to pay respect
to the dearly who departed
Senslessly before thier time
The good died young.
Mourners paraded passed
An opened casket
The curious seeking recognition
"He looks familar"
Within their minds, they state
I think I've seen him around
Now look at him
Tomorrow he'll be buried
In the ground.
Reletive in disbelieve
Utter sadly
"Gee he looks like he's asleep"
Friends rant on about
"I told him so"
Not to mess with that dude
He didn't listen, now he's gone
I thought their callous manner
was rude
But one must face it,
It was true
The good died young.
In the background of it all
A voice yells
They caught the guy
Soon, he too will die
Death and the dead
When death was young.
A powerful write ! I also remember when my grandparents were brought home, and people came to view them and pay their respects to our family. Time doesn't erase some memories .Some do die young..........M
A very tough subject to write about William, but you captured the sad essence of it...I guess in our line of work we saw the other side of it
love and peace, Carole
Scary and yet a big slice of Americana, William. The truth is in your verses, though sad it truly is. It is not a thing of the past, and perhaps, today, it is more of a reality than ever before. Excellent pen. You could certainly write a story from this poem.
Take care,
Sherry
We view death differently when we are young and the subjection of this write lets your readers react...a coffin in a living room, brings the ultimate process right to home in that it can happen to anyone...the process can be forced upon too, as you mention...or it can be forced upon someone in retaliation...death...depending how it comes, will always be way too young!
Enjoyed the twist in this~
Love and Peace~
Kimmy~
My grandfather was a casket maker, made many of the caskets of old that served as a final resting place for many people here in the mountains...I've been in many living rooms which served as a place for the wake, or the viewing. My husbands grandmother was kept at home, I remember it well her coffin was in the living room, the house full of family, friends, and neighbors mixing, mourning, talking, napping, eating, and reflecting upon her life. We spent the entire day and night, and the funeral was the next day. Many relatives and neighbors I have visited in their homes and their coffins, in days gone by this was done as a southern tradition and lack of burial insurance...occasionally this is still a way of the south, not as often as in years past. You've penned a topic that I hadn't thought of in a quite a while William, though a topic of death is sad, I still enjoy reflecting on the old ways of the south!
Blessings,
Joyce Bowling
I don't recall ever seeing a coffin in a house. I do know one thing though, Southern funerals have the best food in the world and everyone
gets along.
Your poem took me back a few William.
Love,
Susan
I agree with Michael here...there is no respect left for the dead!!
Love Tinka
Reviewed by simmu simmu (Reader)
Reviewed on February 26, 2007
yes this is also one side of living life.good one
Reviewed by Michael Mathieu (Reader)
Reviewed on February 26, 2007
How true William,I remember people laughing and joking around filling their stomachs with food like it was just a party instead of a funeral,No respect from some,Excellent write,
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well done.
peace,
carolyn
I agree with Anita,,,and as I read it I thought of young police officers...such as mu husband's uncle...back in the day, 'When Death Was Young'
So glad you made it out whole!
Love&Blessings, Rhonda
so sad, yet told so well
oh
on a lighter note
like your n ew picture :) pax A
love and peace, Carole
Take care,
Sherry
Excellent write William!
Enjoyed the twist in this~
Love and Peace~
Kimmy~
Blessings,
Joyce Bowling
gets along.
Your poem took me back a few William.
Love,
Susan
The truth hurts.
Well done.
Georg
Blessings,
Josie
Love Tinka
Michael