Get Your Premium Membership

Tale After Death

AND ON THE 25TH OF DECEMBER, 19-, I DIED AS A STRICT SATANIC MEMBER; CALLED HOME BY MY FATHER STILL TO BE KNOWN- BUT HAD I ANY HOPE? I BELIEVE NONE. I CAME TO MY SENSES, THE AREA COLD, AND I FELT A WEIGHT ON ME IN THE COLD HOLD; A STRANGLING WEIGHT, AN UNKNOWN HUMAN BEING: BUT I WAS DEAD – IN THE MORTUARY’S BIN. “WHO ARE YOU UNTOP OF ME?” I ASKED AS CORPSES SAY-“YOU ARE A HEAVY CORPSE:BAD SIZES. I HEARD HIM YAWN AND STIR AS CORPSES DO. “ WHAT ! DON’T YOU FEEL THE COLD? HAVEN’T’Y A CLUE. “HERE’S A MORTUARY, AND I NEED ALL HEAT.” I MERELY SIGHED, REGRETTING THE PIT. “AND I AM DUE TODAY.” I HEARD HIM SAY. “ THEN LET’S ENJOY THE TIME WE HAVE IN PLAY. AND … AND WE HEARD THE MORTUARY’S DOOR CREAK FOR TRULY HE WAS DUE FOR A SAD PICK: A TIME WHEN FAMILY MEMBERS SO WEEP WHILE OTHERS AWAIT DINNER WITHOUT SLEEP. EXTRACTED FROM: “THE LAST DAY’S TALE.” BY NFORCH GERALD APPROX: 600 STANZAS LONG. SEARCHING FOR A PUBLISHER.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2010




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

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.


Book: Reflection on the Important Things