Post Mortem

The autopsy revealed
A heart once bright with paint
And pipes clogged and split
By lifetimes of mistakes
Or ghost clocks-fixed faced
Lolling doors uncertain
Yawning mouthfulls of stars
Curtains still hang tattered
Like yesterdays eye makeup
And long for footsteps-candle light
Their mute past laid bare-laid out

A hollow scull of a house
Clinging to earth-the corpse of a dream
A giant anthill torn apart
With wild things creeping
Through cracked panes poison
Oozing through the layers

Hunched under crazed haired trees
Filching bricks to vandalise
Crumbled underfoot they seem to mock
The weakness of the injured beast

Mourners uncomfortable
Of nudity and death
Keep their distance fascinated
Fearing the smell of it
They talk about the weather
Keep their infants close
And whisper do not touch


Blogger Amit Gaur said...

is this written by you

4:38 PM  
Blogger Sue hardy-Dawson said...

Most definately, nice to meet you

5:51 PM  
Blogger Russell Ragsdale said...

Awsome Sue! The autopsy talks about the body but you tell the is life after death there!

3:50 PM  
Blogger NicoleBraganza said...

This gave me an empty sort of a feeling. Maybe the word autopsy freaked me out.

9:04 PM  
Blogger NicoleBraganza said...

I'd love to read one of your nice childrens poems that you write. You havent posted any for a while yeah? Just a thought....


9:05 PM  
Blogger the cloned corpse of marcus tal said...


Death, always we strive contemplate and understand it. Isn't the artistic process an attempt to understand the beginning, the middle and especially the end ?

9:13 PM  
Blogger Cocaine Jesus said...

disturbing but at the same time fascinating. new territory for you and loads of applause for being not only creative but so brave.

9:19 PM  
Blogger EATING POETRY said...

I love how you write... your words flow so well... putting me in the moment.

Yeah, going to the sea side was amazing, you should put it in your schedule for some time soon. Vacations are very important!

Happy New Year to you too.

12:15 AM  
Blogger Queen Neetee said...

An amazing journey!

I think if it were possible, Edgar Allan Poe would have loved to pick your mind for more wonderful ideas.

With fairy steps you have tripped lightly through a heavy world.
Hunched under crazed haired trees
Filching bricks to vandalise
Crumbled underfoot they seem to mock
The weakness of the injured beast

You whirl your words so beautifully not demanding we keep up, but hoping that we do. And believe me, I am loving the exercise of trying.

4:24 AM  
Blogger Shubhodeep said...

eerie piece of writing. fascinating all the same. i wish i could write like you.

7:27 AM  
Blogger Sue hardy-Dawson said...

Russel great you back and blogging, people don't like talking or thinking about death which makes it taboo and harder on those it touches, but I have always been fasinated by ancient and crumbling things touched by people long ago, I know I'm not alone but some people really find them creepy

Nicole, sorry if I gave you the heby gebys, I promise something lighter next time just for you

Cloned C O M T, I think you are right and we all at times fear and are stunned by the mystery and magic of life and try to make sence of such contradictions

CJ I never really thought of it as being brave, our blogging comunity is so nurturing of feelings and experimentation I feel safe to try new things

Eating P yes you are right I really need a holiday, but till then I'll have to enjoy yours through words that bubble round my toes and take me on a journy to the sea

Q Neetee you brightened my morning, thank-you, I expect though Mr Poe would not have aproved of my painting pictures on walls though and would have written me a sticky ending

Shubhodeep,you write both darkly and lightly well and I often read the things you write many times, it would be much less fun blogging if we all wrote the same way

1:47 PM  
Blogger MB said...

Sue, I enjoy the creative images you weave into your poems. Spin might be the better verb, because your poems do give me a sense that you write them spinning them out like hot strands of glass. Don't know if that makes any sense to you. For some reason this poem made me think of visits to ancient ruins that have given me a prickly sense of presence of the dead.

6:10 PM  
Blogger iamnasra said...

Im not sure how I feel I do not know where did my soul go when I read your poem. It had entered the world of the unknown. It might be crazy and fearful to touch the space of death but how powerful your words are that you seem to gain courage to understand the other side of after earthly life

6:40 PM  
Blogger Sue hardy-Dawson said...

MB that makes perfect sence I love to weave words testing one against another

Nasra so nice to hear from you I really loved your beautiful pictures

12:06 AM  
Blogger BlueTattoo said...

Very nicely done...I enjoyed my stroll through your work.

5:19 AM  
Blogger GEL said...

Oh, hon I'm going to comment first then read the string of comments. If this is based on recent (or really anytime) real-life experience, sincere condolences.

Sue, this is awesome. It grips me in a vise from beginning to end. There are so many phrases I gravitate to reread. With each reading, I see and feel something more.That is the mark of excellent writing!

A few examples out of this gem of yours:
"A heart once bright with paint" (You'd probably predict that me, as another artist would relate to this, but your words go deeper than the artistic connection: all the life imagery now obliterated.)

"ghost clocks-fixed faced
Lolling doors uncertain
Yawning mouthfulls of stars": These chilling metaphors are made more powerful with clever personification.

Sadly, your ending stanza is spot on true.

6:26 AM  
Blogger iamnasra said...

Its nice to be here...I have been so distracted lately being locked to be in my own world...

Heaps of unwanted situations that keeps me down but I learned one thing you have to allow your soul to break free to touch the light out there

Many thanks for always commenting on my blog

5:35 AM  
Blogger Carbanion Tolodine said...

Death is a part of a live, all things go to this end. Like many people i fell something about it: I thing that's not an end but a start, a new start. I can't say the start of what but i hope for it. If they are nothing after, why should we live in this live? For what?

bye, take care of yourself.

6:43 PM  
Blogger Queen Neetee said...

CAUGHT Part 2 is reading for viewing. I've used your words.
Hope you like it.

11:46 PM  
Blogger Roger Stevens said...

An excellent poem. A nice idea and some strong imagery and nice lines.

I thought it a very appropriate poem for the new year.

Have a great 2006!


8:39 PM  
Blogger TwistedNoggin said...

vivid images

9:52 PM  
Blogger TwistedNoggin said...

is this soon enough? :)

12:19 AM  
Blogger MAHARAJADHIRAJ said...

VERY cool, reminds me of a short story about a post-morten. Here's something I wrote...


Ceramic, white
big mouthed
thin throated
sticking out
of a wall
like a tongue.

Doing a manly
in drinking
vile, fermented
liquids of
various makes
and vintage.

Helping what
in the mammalian
world is done
around trees and
other standing
objects for marking
space and territory.

Saturday, October 15, 2005

2:27 AM  
Blogger Sue hardy-Dawson said...

Blue T I'm glad you enjoyed your strole

Silver M, no it's just the emptyness of a derilect building and the echoes of its past that I felt close too

Nasra lovley to hear from you, you've been working so hard

Carba I suppose we all wonder at times about death and the meaning or if there is a meaning at all to
life, mostly I hope that I can make a difference to those I love and never hurt anyone badly

Q Neetee I've been looking forward to it

Roger you made me giggle

T Noggin, what a brilliant name and yes

MAHARAJADHIRAJ, I will never see urinals in quite the same way again,well actually I've never actually seen one, but now I shal smile when I pass the men's room good poem

7:43 PM  

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