and the northerlies cradle
your wet youthful grave
yet etched in our subconscious
is your deep rippling laughter
Friday Flash Fiction |
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The dove song soothes
and the northerlies cradle your wet youthful grave yet etched in our subconscious is your deep rippling laughter
Sue Clayton
29/3/2022 03:17:47 am
The sound of laughter never completely dies.
Padmini
29/3/2022 03:29:04 pm
So true, Sue. Thank you so much for commenting. 30/3/2022 06:11:28 pm
Sadness, yet warm loving memories woven into this poem. Sounds that try to ease our pain (soothing doves) and sounds that bring life to those we are no longer able to hold in our arms.
Padmini
31/3/2022 06:44:15 am
Thank you for resonating with this poem and your kind words, Jim. Comments are closed.
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PoetryThis is the section where fiction prose becomes something else. We still expect the poems to be short, though – sonnets, perhaps, or around that length at the very most. Please feel free to comment (nicely!) on any poems – writers appreciate it.
Just at the moment, though, we're moderating some of them so there might be a slight delat before they appear. Archives
April 2025
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