I was too young,
To either remember,
Or fathom the repercussions,
Of mortality.
All I remember,
Was the crowd,
The weather,
And the cemetery.
I
once attended a perfect funeral.
Perfect in the sense that,
All we associate with death,
And gloom
Was present in plenty.
I’ve been to many funeral,
None before,
But many after that.
None came anywhere close to it.
Not even in the far vicinity.
I believe
The first experience of anything is unique.
Whether it be the first time we lusted,
Or First time we realised,
The concept of mortality
Our ephemeral existence.
**
Interesting where you placed that “I” in the middle.
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The gravity of the thought required it to stand alone.
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Where are your sketches?
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Did few of them in last week after a long break.
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I don’t see access to them, maybe it’s just my phone WP app?
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No, no, I did them. I haven’t posted any of them on the blog.
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Beautiful
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Funerals…a bitter beauty. Great poem.
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And why not?
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I don’t know. Lately I’m going through the motions of poetry. So maybe I’m trying to fill the blog with them, or maybe as always, I’m too critical of myself. It’s one or the other. 🙂
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Great poetry, Nitesh
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Thanks, rugby.
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