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( 11 visitor comments )

 

Poetry

 

Dead, Dead

12 May 1966

Dead, dead. The long-dead find me.
Dead, dead, before and behind me.

I met a man, so pale and sad,
I could see by the words he said,
He was alone and dead (dead).

Dead, dead. The dead men meet me,
And bid their quiet Master greet me.

I met a girl two decades old,
With Eden breasts and skin of gold;
But when I touched her she was cold (cold).

Still, still, with grey cloaks worn:
The still ones see. 'Tis I they mourn.

I saw a bird on a ferny track,
Colours, green, red, on its back.
But when she flew my bird was black.


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