Farming for Lost Souls

by Maple Tree   Jun 22, 2016


I shall grow very old,
within a mind shelter
of silence, and there
I will sit, at a table -

Tapping my fingers
as the rain

falls

slowly

down

Counting dead souls
twixt fingers, toes
whispering
to my self
as paint chips fall,
listening to music
of ghostly artists,
feeling their heartfelt
emotions, realizing
they have been forgotten.

Death is so final,

but the dead will come
to my empty table
and watch me cry....

8


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Latest Comments

  • 1 year ago

    by Em

    Andrea, this is so sad but So beautiful because it makes me feel that,the dead aren't dead but just not here anymore, as in we can't see them, abit like they've moved country. I've always thought of it like that but then can not explain the no contact if that makes sense. This has an eerie yet tranquil feel to it.

    Juts beautiful. Em

  • 1 year ago

    by Brenda

    Andrea, just beautiful! Another write confirming why you are one of my favorites. The imagery is so rich with sadness and longing-amazing!

  • 1 year ago

    by Ben Pickard

    Hello Andrea

    Wonderful, visual poetry here (for me, anyway!)
    Hearing/seeing the dead in film/photographs is often something I think about as well.
    "Death is so final but the dead will come to my empty table and watch me cry" - it's those left behind that suffer most, often. The idea of a person keeping company with only those who have already passed is a very sad and moving concept.

    Great write, Maple - take care

    Ben

  • 1 year ago

    by IdTakeABulletForYou

    It is the fate that will come for all of us.

    No suggestions for improvement needed.

    Beautiful,
    5/5
    IdTakeABulletForYou

  • 1 year ago

    by Poetess

    Ohmygoodness. This made me cry and just broke my heart. It's just...I don't even know what to say. Goodness.