Demise by Bruce Michael Foley

stitched

DEMISE

A silent language
the stitched lips of the scarecrow speak,
he tilts his head to a tombstone, smiles and winks.

The cornfields amber gone to black and burning
mocking chuckles ride the wind through your open window
as October’s ruby leaves lay rotting,
breathe deep the dead crows foul stench
beneath the dark night’s barren trees.

A sorrowful lament, pale sirens cry
shivering, cold drops of sweat, marking time.
Your life read aloud from the Great Book now
heard only by those in darkness dying.

Listen, a black cat howling for the damned
we too must go along and walk with them.

Weeds among wheat we shall be sifted
bound in golden bundles stored
or tossed by pitchfork to the fire,
ashes in mounds at the end of the road.

indexI was born across the bridge from Boston, Massachusetts, in Cambridge, as July 4th fireworks exploded over the Charles River, just a stone’s throw from Harvard University. At age two, my family moved to Somerville, Ma.,where I was raised in a rough blue-collar environment, playing many sports. In 1998 I relocated to Las Vegas, Nevada. Here, I work among special needs children and teach martial arts. Poetry began in high school, but took off in a more dedicated way in later years, along with resuming music studies, guitar. My poems are published in various anthologies; including Impressions, Prism, and the Mighty Voices Of Thunder Series, sponsored by the international poetry website, “Allpoetry.” I was a featured poet in Lyrical Somerville February 2015, a Boston based publication, as well as being an “Editor’s Front Page Pick,” for the month of March 2016 on Allpoetry. A defining moment that contributed significantly to further interest in writing was a First Place Award from the International Poetry Fellowship, for my poem, “Among Fields of Cotton.” Presently, I am happy to have the opportunity to explore various forms of poetry with Mr. Bruce Isaacson, Poet Laureate of Clark County Nevada.

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