Prague, the Main Station
The Morgue File
we suffer the tenderness
that suffuses a smile
pasted in place,
one that imprints
its block of light
upon skin too timid to know
that its time is almost up.
count them down,
those days until
the extant becomes the extinct---
not so long really
we all helped
we weavers of shrouds
tinged with the apathy
that killed the bees first.
Copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2015
Not sure what is going on with this one today. But here it is anyway.
posted for The Tuesday Platform
To me this speaks of our apathy,ReplyDelete
of just letting life take its course, of letting
our want and greed destroy the world around us.
What does it matter that we have killed off so much?
perhaps one day we will know.
This comment has been removed by the author.Delete
Let me try again--my feeble attempt here at a train of thought about apathy--maybe it will get fleshed out later--Delete
I specially like the ending lines ~ If we are too apathetic to do anything, then we will the bees and everything else ~ReplyDelete
That last stanza is alike a punch in the face. So true...ReplyDelete
Extant becomes the extinct.. yes and we aren't bothered to learn any lessons either!ReplyDelete
Pathetic and even morbid of the outside world right to the morgue. So much to bother about but so little done to improve the situation!ReplyDelete
Indifference apathy and self interest characterises man. We only wake up when it is too late.ReplyDelete
The weaver of shrouds.. what a great way to end this.ReplyDelete
“Indifference is the strongest force in the universe. It makes everything it touches meaningless. Love and hate don't stand a chance against it.” Joan D. Vinge
Excellent thoughts Audrey.
oh we weavers of shrouds - what and imageReplyDelete
We are in a heap of trouble.... wonderful language here - right onReplyDelete
Apathy is a disease in this country and it's growing.....I think you captured it perfectly.ReplyDelete
This is hard-hitting and the final 4 lines... spectacular.ReplyDelete
Gah, what a strong cautionary tale.... or an it's-too-late tale. Love that line, when the extant becomes the extinct. Gulp.ReplyDelete
Wow, you really brought it and the ending is a dive into darkness~ReplyDelete
Those two last lines are beautiful but so heart-rending, too. I loved your poem. Thanks.ReplyDelete
Greetings from London.
Such powerful lines and anthropomorphisms: block of light; extant becomes instinct - I just love your words and just wanted to come by and say hi!ReplyDelete