Array ( [sid] => 133235 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => dying anonymous [time] => 2007-04-02 23:13:29 [hometext] => [bodytext] => stranger land was where he died
the road was long
high was the tide
No one there knew his name
it didn't matter he had fame
a stranger to his stranger land
buried into stranger sands
no one even held his hand
as he took his last one breathe
Tears were scarce
no one made a fuss
The melancholic withering
of a man in a strange land
there is no murderer coming to repent
no books of instructions
no proper strange traditions to adhere
to.
He was simply blasted
into no limbs no head no skeleton
but pure sand and ash and dirt
merged with the organic soil
and sent to interwine with the origins
the land he once toiled. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 216 [topic] => 43 [informant] => glassicallyunsuperficial [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 6 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops ) Your Poetry Dot Com - dying anonymous


dying anonymous
Date: Monday, 2nd April 2007 @ 11:13:29 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: glassicallyunsuperficial
stranger land was where he died
the road was long
high was the tide
No one there knew his name
it didn't matter he had fame
a stranger to his stranger land
buried into stranger sands
no one even held his hand
as he took his last one breathe
Tears were scarce
no one made a fuss
The melancholic withering
of a man in a strange land
there is no murderer coming to repent
no books of instructions
no proper strange traditions to adhere
to.
He was simply blasted
into no limbs no head no skeleton
but pure sand and ash and dirt
merged with the organic soil
and sent to interwine with the origins
the land he once toiled.

This poem is Copyright © glassicallyunsuperficial


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