He stood silent
With an empty face,
Clad in invisibility
And leaned on a monstrous sickle
Right there at the entrance
Pitilessly watching
-our beloved
On that grim bed
As he laboured
For a piece of breath
A sad sight
And we who claim
Ourselves masters of herbs
Could do nothing
Not even see,
Plead or fight
Him that stood
At the entrance
Neither reaping
Nor helping
Or away leaping
To a different field
But stood there
Watching
Timelessly bound
Until our beloved whispered:
“Water…!!!”
A last taste of life
That was all he wanted
Nothing else matter
By the time we returned
The Stranger reaped his part
And left us the chaff
Comments
Hello!
I had no doubt what so ever what this poem was about from the beginning. You conveyed the content so well! Excellent work. Great imagery!!!
Him that stood
At the entrance
Neither reaping
Nor helping
Or away leaping
To a different field
wonderful!
always, Cat
hi, Candlewitch
I have been following the submissions
of the ( Imagery Workshop ) for days now.
So I thought I finally give a shot.
glad to know it worked. thanks for the read.
respects
WonderGolly :)
Thanks Lonnie
glad to have around and thanks for the read. I appreciate it.
the character / image of the Grim Reaper evoked my interest to compose this piece.
thanks again.
respects.
WonderGolly :)
nicely executed imagery
Just beautiful I could see the image clearly. Well done
thanks a lot Barbara.
thanks a lot Barbara.
hey wonder
Ready for meter yet
hey wonder
Is the stranger death?
I really like this poem