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Man May 21
works burned to cinders
poplar trees leaking resin
bulging eyes lashed
punishment as a lesson
but his chain links snapped
fresh from slavery
hefty debts to the procession
the gally of people alike
that lent him a hand to his ascension
a journey his own
luck and his mind
fortified his constitution
they carried him to his fate
that was to be
Regina Apr 2020
The November 25, 1963 day of the cold sun,
the noble horses,
white horses-drawn caisson,
the dignity of their somber gait,
silver shoes resounded on the
the skittish night-black riderless
Black Jack, led down the avenue
of the people,
his symbolic rider, no longer
bound to the earthly life, it's

The noble horses accompanied
him on his journey to the ages,
the mystique, the dreams,
where the ground is hallowed-
c Aug 2019
It’s all taking too long--
The commute, the wait
The procession, the speech
The descent, the dark--
I’ve dressed for the occasion
And repose in my finest robe
I just wish
He’d hurry up

Tatiana May 2018
Here comes the procession.
They march through streets muddied with rain.
They're lead by figures dressed in black.
People look on in fear at their raven masks.

The birth of the daughter was sad,
because there's a sickness that plagues this land.
It feeds on those doomed to a horrible fate.
Though they start out their lives in innocence.

No one knows when it will end,
how does death take one's hand?
Those figures dressed in black take off their masks,
to reveal humans who have been put to task.

But people move on and pretend,
that this plague does not prey upon them.
Only a certain few must suffer the memories,
and they'll question the silence of this land.
© Tatiana
This is a continuation of my poem "The Curse of Mankind"
Journey of Days Dec 2017
it has started
the slow drift
moving across land
******* at the seas
whispering across the earth
charming music from the stones
drawing power from the stars
moving minds
directing hearts
air hums
light crackles
building intensity
the gathered energy
pennants flutter the quiet call to arms

Jordan Fischer Jul 2015
There was a funeral procession today
Did you see it?
I didn't get too
I bet it was beautiful
Lot's of black?
I've always liked black
How many cars were in it?
10? 20?
I would have given anything to see it
I wish i wasn't cooped up in this box
I miss everything
Seán Mac Falls May 2015
Winter ends in bows
Now burst the cheerings to Spring
Leaves budding in trees
Seán Mac Falls Jan 2015
Swallows round steeples,
Indifferent as enlightened ones,
Purple robes in skies.
Seán Mac Falls Nov 2014
Cat buries her ****  .  .  .
Dog digs up the carcass bone,
  .  .  .  Crow steals it away.

— The End —