Buried Man

a buried man rests

A half moon at its highest point.

His first winter at the graveyard ; the grey sky falls into

bits of ice :he may envy the lights of rings of houses.

Strangers carry parts of his life, nothing stopped or

diluted by affection; the darkness waters the night.

Buses crawl round the empty streets.

From a distant bar the sounds of glasses and laughter.

Warmth.

Reviews

[DIVYA]

Buried one minute forgotten the next.
Life goes on... Great poem

[Eric Cox]

Your imagery I always enjoy, cool creating.
A cool write of a barren fate.

[Daniel Eckert]

"the darkness waters the night." I really like this line.

A very good poem indeed; thank you for sharing it!

[Zenithex]

He is still a tenant in the graveyard he will soon become a landlord :-D i love it

[G!o]

One thing i adore about your writing is that, you make it stand out...you don't blend in with your writing, thus you create such unique pieces as this...i adore the ambiance in this...

[FJ Davis]

What a familiar mood this sets!
Profoundly perceptive excellence.

[Ken Simm.]

I particularly like the part where strangers carry parts of his life. Unique insight, cold poem. Remarkable.