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Pendragon
06-05-2008, 02:37 PM
Coroner

They bring all the bodies here to this room
And send for me without delay—
Here the mysteries of death are resolved in the gloom
Whether newly arrived or scarred by decay…
Now many of you would find this slightly macabre,
This slicing up of the remains of the dead.
Don’t hold it against me, it’s just part of my job,
Part of my struggle for my daily bread…
Here’s a gunshot victim from the Eastern Shore,
And a lady who died from a heart attack…
Here’s a riddled body, (evidence packaged in gore
of the power a double-barreled twelve gauge packs…)
They go in and out each day, the ones no one could save...
A whistle-stop before Funeral Home and grave...

DL Harris (Pendragon)
1998

Sweets America
06-05-2008, 02:45 PM
Damn, I love this, Dale! I am quite macabre myself sometimes, so I like your poem and your rhymes, very nicely done.

Pendragon
06-05-2008, 02:48 PM
Damn, I love this, Dale! I am quite macabre myself sometimes, so I like your poem and your rhymes, very nicely done.
Thanks, Sweets! Yeah, I get this way at times, writing poetry about things most wouldn't touch! :D