Dialogue with the Dead
An Ekphrastic Sonnet
Leaving glows with magnetic temptation
The immaterial must pay no rent
Unknown to them is mean competition
They earn nothing, for they are truly spent
Morbid and melancholy are these thoughts
Uncomfortable for some ears to hear
But every quickened thing, by and by, rots
Immortal is death's truth, which many fear
Consider the relief when some pain ends
When an excruciating trial concludes
When nothing on some test result depends
What sweet serenity the soul exudes
Imagine what the dead might talk about
Free as they are of all fear and all doubt
About the Creator
D. J. Reddall
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
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Our Song
Evening has given way to night. Gently, I settle next to you on the comfortable, old love seat and reach for your hand. You snatch it away, again. It cuts me to the quick, but I hide the pain, understanding that the reaction is but part of your demented state. Since the accident, your presence here in our cozy home has been clouded by a haze I can't see. Nevertheless, I feel the frigidity of your expressions and it serves as an excruciating reminder of the immeasurable distance between us.
By Dana Crandell3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (3)
Death lives forever and has nothing to fear. I imagine there's nothing they can't say out loud. Love the "immortal" line and the ending. Well done!
“Immortal is death’s truth” is a hell of a turn of phrase. Well done!
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