Sunday, July 26, 2015

Cenotaph




This place marks
a superb spot,

where everyone expects
me to reside,

to germinate undisturbed,
dispassionate, deep.

They do not know
it is an empty tomb;

for I lie elsewhere,
with a dash of Viking,

linger ripe, sleep dark
in another's arms.


tk


R.A.D. adds beautiful life to my words...





21 comments:

  1. I do not expect you to lie face down on the river's side in nearly colorless circumstance. I do not epect you to be metallic and cold and drilled through and through. I hope for you warmer times and kind eyes, the rumble of kitten hearts and the dart of the hummer's wings.

    ReplyDelete
  2. intriguing fine words!

    ReplyDelete
  3. This was really beautiful. Thank you for writing it!

    ReplyDelete
  4. The 'dash of Viking' sparks these thoughts with starry beauty.

    ReplyDelete
  5. This is one of my favorites of yours, Tess.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Who can't love a dash of viking? :-)

    ReplyDelete
  7. Love this one & the sexy R.A.D. Sure wish he'd toss out those nasty ciggies, though. xo

    ReplyDelete
  8. A poem with a deep meaning. Good one!

    ReplyDelete
  9. Awesome poem!! Meaningful and poignant.

    ReplyDelete
  10. Yes, like it very much indeed.

    ReplyDelete
  11. Cenotaph was a new word for me. Better to sleep in someone's arms,

    ReplyDelete
  12. Something innovative, something unexpected, yet just right.

    ReplyDelete
  13. beautiful lines,i like the way you end it

    ReplyDelete
  14. loved the way you treated the prompt, intriguing

    Ashamed

    ReplyDelete
  15. Your poem brings to mind every vacant face I've ever watched, while wondering, Where is she (or he) right now?.

    Love the title...

    ReplyDelete
  16. Cenotaph. Interesting... I once read a story on that. :)

    ReplyDelete
  17. I don’t know how should I give you thanks! I am totally stunned by your article. You saved my time. Thanks a million for sharing this article.

    ReplyDelete
  18. ~~ a dash of Viking describes you well .....

    ReplyDelete

Inject a few raisins of conversation into the tasteless dough of existence.
― O. Henry (and me)