Tag: death

Season of Wither

~ Meg ~ 33 Comments

Poem and artwork by Meg Sorick

The rains have come
And the birds have gone
Just the carrion crows
Cackling like crones
Gather in the bare branches
Watchful for a meager meal

Falling Hawthorne berries
And delicate dandelion clocks
Mark the passage of time
Golden gorse and crumbling
Stone walls
Creep the ages by

It is the season for reflection
When death is all around us
To close the doors and windows
On the cold and howling wind
When the brief and bitter daylight
Yields to darkness and decay

To wither or to weather?
Hidden and hermetic
Insulated, introverted
To waste these hours of isolation?
Or cling to life and dream of love
In a springtime so far away

The Last Scene

~ Meg ~ 15 Comments

A poem by Meg Sorick

It’s a tired old story played on a broken down stage
Second rate performances by a third rate cast
When the end is no grand finale
The last scene concludes
With the actors running out of script
The stage lights dim as they stare
At the orchestra abandoning the pit
While a single, slow clap of applause
Echoes in the darkened theater

Header image: The Uptown Theater ~ Photo by Hidden City Philadelphia

The Engineer

~ Meg ~ 48 Comments

Old men who have foolish ideas and no self control
Old women who play the victim and sulk
Middle aged men who want to walk away
Middle aged women who live vicariously through their children
Brave young men who try to pick up the torch
Brave young women who fight for their rights
Children who have no idea what they’re in for
Babies who are innocently self absorbed

And last: the caretaker who overcharges for his services

All of them get on a speeding train
The tracks abruptly end six miles ahead
But the engineer jumps at the last minute
Preserving his life alone
The crowd observing this catastrophe
Congratulates him on a job well done
And he’s given the key to the city
Drinks on the house
As everyone turns their backs on the smoking ruin

This poem, if you want to call it that, is as close as I’ve ever come to automatic writing. You dear reader are welcome to interpret it any way you like.