Quarry
Extinct, fallow, weed-clogged
Cavities of harvested air
Look down upon the harbour
Where familial rock is set
Cut square and thrown
With brutal care beneath
These same feet passing mine
On this and other Sundays
© PJ Nolan 2005
Poem as my mother's burial approaches
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*[ash natural as sunsets]*
Ash natural as sunsets
As this brook here,
Nothing to fear, some say,
The silence is the main aspect,
And strange for...
1 week ago