how gReEn the grass

Ah!!....how very true....and how very sad to think that the beauty we find in the lush green of the grass......is the lid that covers the dead and decaying....the odor that lines the foundation of crypts and coffins the world over......a powerful look inside the melancholy of the forlorn!!......and how insightful those who mourn can be!!.......ALL STARS!!.......your pen is mighty dear poet sister!!......LOVE & ROCKETS!!......T xo  : (

                          ~ "Still, it has to be done
                               there is no other way
                               a shovel, a song, and
                               a nice church to pray......"

Clever writing my friend. I got a sense of sweeping death under the carpet. Also that feeling when no one wants to talk about it, because it all becomes an uncomfortable mess. That clean up we do when everyone just wants it fixing and moving on. Very creative writing. The rituals we endure after a death, which are suppose to provide that annoying thing people misconstrue called “closure” I hate that word being used and yet it sadly is, so many times in grief.

hugs ❤️

wonderful poem as always

Beautiful words that clearly spell out such anger. This is where, in my opinion, the anger is most profound...right here in these words. These words hit me as hard as any sledgehammer could. Thor's hammer is NOT the strongest thing...your words are! 

Still, it has to be done there is
no other way, a shovel a song
and a nice church ...to pray

It is almost like shocking that mocking normality into touch. And normality is mocking.There is nothing normal in something so deeply UN-normal. How come people cover things up all the time and pretend it is THE thing to do? The decent thing and all that. But death is not decent and never, ever fair and the grieving need to be allowed to grieve in their own way. 
Powerful words that are driven all the way home. Hope youvare doing okay my friend x

A beautiful crafted piece. I can feel your anger emotions in your clever words. Like death is just swept under the carpet so to say with nature on top. Much love Px🙏🏽💜💜💜 

Glad you worked so hard to write so well. Maybe it's easy:)?

As an altar boy, I lit the incense and watched the eyes and faces of the bereaved, and wondered. 

You evoke so many memories of poems and poets for me in your poem and in your own unique way.

your poems may flow without hard work for the fingers or the mind, only a free release of feelings from the heart but somehow, someway, your life prepared you to write what you feel in an inventive way. I'll bet there was some working through things along the way:)