Thursday, 4 April 2013

The Androids Burial

The Androids Burial A poem by ben Corde


THE ANDROIDS BURIAL


‘Twas summertime I buried her.
The ground was hard and dry as bone.
Merciless, the scorching heat of fiery midday sun,
beat down on parched and arid soil.
No breath of wind, no sign of life or mortal toil.
I was quite alone.

The hole we’d dug two days before.
With clank and hiss, hydraulic arms and iron claw
scoured down into that hard and unforgiving ground.
Of natures music not a sound.

Through the shimmering haze of heat,
ropes burning into hand.
I watched her slowly settle,
to her final resting place beneath my feet,
and memories all came flooding back
of summers past and flowers in the meadow
of a green and pleasant land.
And bitter tears flowed down my cheek.
But unlike sweet and gentle rain,
they only added to the pain.
No flowers now, just thistle, dock and nettle.

And then from nowhere, billowing and black,
a candy floss of clouds appeared.
As if to celebrate - or mock - my loss
torrential rain poured down and filled the hole right to the very top.
And buoyant to the last my beloved, up did pop
as if to have  one last gasp of air
and protest at the fact that death , until now dusty
had changed it’s mind to make her bones  go  rusty.




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