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AFTER THE WAKE

AFTER THE WAKE
the women young and old
walked around the large
rectangular table , their pale skin
framed in faded black dresses
torn black stockings,
and, old, black shoes.
they seemed to be in a dream:
silence in slow motion.
The men were seated
waiting to be served
their share of demi-tasse
and Italian pastries;
they lit their cigars and
no word was passed among them
for they confronted
their mortality once again…
the women faded quietly
away into another room
this is how it happened;
this is what I saw and would see
many times more.

Editing stage: 

Comments

I seem to have read this one some time back and now it still has that impact.
A great write young Joe/Richard, you take care and see if Richard would like to write a piece of his for us??
Yours Ian..

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Give critique to help keep Neopoet great.
Unconditional love to you all.
"Learn to love yourself first"
Yours as always, Ian.T, Sparrow, and Yenti

There is a quiet acceptance about this that I find comforting and worrying at the same time.
Is it 'his share' or 'their share' just struck me. Jx

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Don't forget to offer critique on poems you read.

How you compact a scene, a culture, humanity, into such a simple and clear word picture is quite amazing. I always feel a compunction to emulate your writing style after reading your "small" stories.

But , alas, I know you are inimitable.

with abiding admiration,

Al

The line about confronting mortality is exacting in the way funerals affect me. Good job as usual....stan

of the funerals and wakes that I have been to. They all have pieces of silence
and then outbursts of loud talk and clatter as though to chase away those very feelings of confronting one's mortality. Nice work! ~ Gee.

There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.

hope
this
is
NOT
the
Finale
yet!

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