Grande Mort
No matter where you may
live or hide ..
Whether beneath a bridge,
or in some
high street shop doorway
somewhere ..
Either in a cave, or castle ..
Just be sure,
that she shall one day find
the spores you
leave behind and devour you ..
The Transient Value of Slaves
It does concern me greatly, to think what might become of thee
when your fingers
eventually callous and can no longer knead the coarse flour for
your masters daily bread ..
Yes, it does worry me so to think what might become of thee
when your fingers freeze
and you can no longer twist, or weave quickly and so skilfully,
the fine silver thread,
your master desires, for his new blouson and breeches, or the
white cotton sheets you
place daily upon his four poster bed .. It fears me greatly and it
fills me with dread, to think
what shall happen to thee, when he tires of this pretty young
slave girl like so many before ..
-
Author:
Neville (
Offline) - Published: September 22nd, 2024 03:12
- Comment from author about the poem: PC just about sorted ..
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
Offline)
Comments6
PC wearing out? Mine went that way a couple of weeks ago. I took this a different way unil I read your note. I felt as if you were talking of my brain and it wearing out no longer able to produce poems. Maybe this was set in my head by the first poem and that the spores left behind will devour me. great write Neville
I shall write out 500 times I must never be ambiguous, but rather very specific in future ..
- I'm sure she will...I hope to conk out gently or with a small amount of help....
- 2024, and slavery alive and well...
- I hope so, but I've neva known my PC to stay sorted for too long, like it doesn't want to bore me or saddle me with too many fixed habits....
Thanks Neville
I am expecting mine to crash .. it's why I got a seat belt fitted to my study swiveller
Be Prepared..... à la Tom Lehrer.🙃
Good writes N. Me 3 brain cells can't cope with TWO poems per day, that may be on the cryptic side, or that have hidden meanings. lol.
I don't plan on doubling up very often, so don't worry on that score ..
But I don't even always get the meaning of ONE cryptic poem per day! lol.
Well, I stands corrected, having read the previous commentary before opening my proverbial trap, mistakenly believing you endorsed Political Correctness, as it's termed (which, incidentally, I do NOT).
"...dust to dust--" was nevir pritty, but it allus happens, exceptin' in a rarer few instances.
Me likes this prettily rendered discussion on the painful reality haunting all, its none too subtle poignancy trailing all we do. Thank you very much for sharing, good Sir.
Thanks for swinging by & checking in .. so very much appreciated .. Kindest Regards, Neville
Yes we will all turn to dust eventually, nothing can stop that Neville.
Some people just cannot see the good that others supply them.
Andy
Dead write my friend .. Neville
Yes, there’s cheerful. We will all turn to dust one day, wherever we are and whatever our rank. No one escapes the reaper, rich or poor. Your second poem reminds me of twelve years a slave. The awful existence of those young women owned by their slave masters, nothing but shameful. They were whipped as well. Heart breaking. Sad to say modern day slavery is going on under our own noses today , while some keep reflecting on 300 years ago. They need to wake up and smell the coffee. Well penned poems.
Many thanks Cassie, yes .. re The Transient Value of Slaves .. it is not unusual for me to encounter & subsequently be asked to try and help those who have been the victim of people trafficking & associated slavery .. while I am glad that Grande Mort spoke for itself .. Kindest Regards .. Neville
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