Thursday, August 14, 2008


dead fly on the

one day
I will too
be still,
on my back and hard
and cold
into some hollow grave
be rolled.

brushed over, left,
and soon forgot;

dead fly and I,
we share
a lot.

dead worm dried on warm

do you know where your life

glad to writhe a
sheen of dew -

some morning, worm,
i’ll be like you.


-confessional- said...

you make me look forward to thursdays. :)

joaquin carvel said...

what an astounding thing to say.

thank you.

StrongJoy said...

Thank you for your comment on my blog - I know it was quite awhile ago but I am quite behind on such things :) I really appreciate everyone who takes the time to drop a note.

I've read some of your poems and I liked some of them - I think all poetry is valuable and the people who share it with us are much appreciated. We don't have enough poetry blogs.

Seize The Day!

scatteredbrain said...

Sometimes I feel a chill from my skull traveling throughout my body…
Just like some cold hands are playing in my hair with icy fingers.
It’s death then on my bedside?
And on the moon light
Does she counts my gray hairs?..."

(Blaga,a romanian poet,first thing that came in my mind after reading yours,I tried to retain the essence when I translate it but as you know it`s hard to capture the emotion within the language...)

Silly Girl said...

"...Do you know how pale & wanton thrillful/ comes death on a strange hour/ unannounced, unplanned for/ like a scaring over-friendly guest you've brought to bed.
Death makes angels of us all & gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as raven's claws..."

an american prayer - Jim Morrison