Final Rest
A Poem by
Judy Ponceby
For Creative Poetry....
Here lies my body
my life-long shell.
Worked through the grind
and finally fell.
Lying postmortem
on this cold table.
The reaper calls,
"Come, you are able."
An undertaker prepares
to hammer the stones
Of my final resting place
sepulcher for my bones.
Resting in pieces
all through the years.
Time washes away
lost memories' tears.
© 2011 Judy Ponceby
Author's Note
4/24 New Words: grind, hammer, undertaker, postmortem, sepulcher.
Reviews
There is a gentleness in the last stanza that feels cleansing to me--just a lovely, lovely piece of work Judy!
Posted 12 Years Ago
12 Years Ago
Thanks so much Audrey.
Brilliant use of the words given..........nicely dark, yet still gentle as you are.
Posted 13 Years Ago
Brilliant use of the words given..........nicely dark, yet still gentle as you are.
Interesting Judy.. I love the feeling I get of letting go.. relinquishing myself to the elements to the process of death and burial.. "lost memories tears".. damn do we have to take those with us too..?? lol..xx
Posted 13 Years Ago
Interesting Judy.. I love the feeling I get of letting go.. relinquishing myself to the elements to the process of death and burial.. "lost memories tears".. damn do we have to take those with us too..?? lol..xx
A clever use of the given words, a finely written poem; strangely macabre reading even though its probably how it could be.
I wonder how soon the theme came to you when you saw the collection of words?
Posted 13 Years Ago
A clever use of the given words, a finely written poem; strangely macabre reading even though its probably how it could be.
I wonder how soon the theme came to you when you saw the collection of words?
I love the last stanza and you got creative with this on talking as if you are the deceased laying on a table. That was a great detail.
Posted 13 Years Ago
I love the last stanza and you got creative with this on talking as if you are the deceased laying on a table. That was a great detail.
Hm, to imagine oneself dead. I like that. Death is the reason for everything we do, after all. Great.
Posted 13 Years Ago
Hm, to imagine oneself dead. I like that. Death is the reason for everything we do, after all. Great.
This poem really bummed me out, Judy. What's the sense of doing anything?--in eternity's scheme, we're already just a bunch of forgotten bones.
Let me give you a few new words to work with: don't, ever, write, anything, so, damned, depressing, again.
(Technically, a great poem.)
Posted 13 Years Ago
This poem really bummed me out, Judy. What's the sense of doing anything?--in eternity's scheme, we're already just a bunch of forgotten bones.
Let me give you a few new words to work with: don't, ever, write, anything, so, damned, depressing, again.
(Technically, a great poem.)
Wow, I like it! This is creative, and all of your rhymes are superb! It has amazing flow as well. Kind of a different subject matter to be dealing with for you.. but you made it work :)
Posted 13 Years Ago
Wow, I like it! This is creative, and all of your rhymes are superb! It has amazing flow as well. Kind of a different subject matter to be dealing with for you.. but you made it work :)
Not a very cheery tale, but you darn-sure used those words! Anything for art, eh?
Posted 13 Years Ago
Not a very cheery tale, but you darn-sure used those words! Anything for art, eh?
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9 Reviews
Added on April 28, 2011
Last Updated on September 13, 2011
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Author
Judy Ponceby Swanton, OH
About
I am me. Living life. Learning love. And laughing.
A poem begins in delight and ends in wisdom.
– Robert Frost
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