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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 12:28:43 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 16028
[catid] => 1
[aid] => Mick
[title] => The On-looking Gravedigger
[time] => 2003-04-15 08:05:00
[hometext] => a poem about my grandmother's funeral
[bodytext] => Leaned against the wall of the mausoleum Stained by rivulets of rusty flower-water, A Hispanic fellow, shovel gripped casually In his left hand, looked upon the procession With a coldness in his gaze. He held his olive Green hat in his right hand, the grave-dirt Caked on its baseball-brim rendering to dust In the sunlight, as he shooed away a fly. He Leaned his head of thick, dusty hair against The marble facade of the egg-crate/building, While the brogue of an Irish Catholic priest Quoted scriptures & the rites of the dead. We stood and listened as the priest fumbled Over the names of the deceased & bereaved; The grave digger didn't snicker or sigh, he Just looked on, his eyes slightly tilted toward The Earth. The service wound down & tears Fell more easily from the eyes of mourners. Replacing his hat and righting his posture, the Grave digger touched his forehead, his chest, And then his shoulders. He approached a pile Of earth, draped over with a sheet of faux-grass, As the crowd finally faded & rejoined the living World. Setting forth his shovel into the mound, He recited Hail-Marys until the hole was filled; Until he had performed his full penance for the day And the earth lay even underneath his feet & The setting sun rested low on the western sky. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 163 [topic] => 21 [informant] => StonedPoet777 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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