The bells tolled in silent air, no mummers
Where uttered in haste as white cloth over
Black draped upon their figures.

On the desecrated reminisce of ash petals
That grow in this place each is picked with
Elegance so not to fracture there fragility.

A new one Is found to replace those that
Unveiled their voices on solemn oaths to words
Never to be uttered, they surrendered it t air.

Voices of blood echoed on the floor, a chastity
Forsaken and white cloth drank upon the wine
Till it had its fill, then voiced its intent in puddles.

The shaded leaf was gently dissected between fingers
And where lips blessed word, the ash sealed them with
The twine of dead embers, and they screamed silently.

Silken coverings where bestowed on the vacant realms
Of purities, in the convent of silence where the dead
Don't speak and muteness is a sound only heard.

A Mummers Funeral

Time slip't, a careless moment, words without thought or foment.
No smile, no glance, no touch, nor care
none of these things ever so fair,
was  thought or brought to share.

I've gaps in my memory,
And holes in my shoes.
not enough time,
Too much *****.
Nothing left of strength and toil.
The grapes of wrath? That wasted soil!

But for the Ghosts of Things unsaid,..
Shadows host the Deeds Undone.
Bare walls and plank't floor,
cobwebs of nothing more.
A Home empty; a house.. a shack,
a time-worn agent my soul to wrack.
Shadows flitting through
cobwebs in the corners of my mind, Have taken in my soul to bind..


I've holes in My memory,
And Gaps in my Blues.
Too much time,
And Not enough *****.