Deaths Quota Flying High

Kurt Philip Behm

The flowers all have scattered,

borrowed feelings shout aloud


Mock funeral of celebration,

grief false beneath their shrouds


The mourning congregation,

to the tavern marched in step


A ruse to the departed,

with each toast his memory wept


His friends then hugged his enemies,

his wife and girlfriend kissed


Through the glass a raven watches,

taking names without a miss


As ‘last call’ is shouted boldly,

and all glasses drained of lies


Two wings beat out a roll call,

—death’s quota flying high


(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)


  • Author: Kurt Philip Behm (Offline Offline)
  • Published: September 10th, 2016 19:03
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 27
  • User favorite of this poem: Augustus.


  • Augustus

    I take it many were not unhappy to see him go and the Raven took note. Enjoyed. Nice ant tight. Told a story. Had a rhythmical flow. Created lots of visual imagery. Teaches a lot.

    • Kurt Philip Behm

      Thanks Augustus. The Raven is taking note of their insincerity,
      false grief and mourning.

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