Say the words of prayer and grief, lament the price of life’s cruel thief
Close the coffin, light the pyre,
forty-nine dead, when will we tire
Of violence, untimely loss,
naming names and counting costs?
After Columbine, Aurora, Newtown?
San Bernadino, Orlando, Charleston?
Too many times, too many lives,
close the coffin, on sons and wives.
Daughters and fathers laid to rest
a clueless nation fails the test.
A trip through life with fingers crossed and eternal optimism.
Doing the best I can with what I have
kind of sad, but not so bad with cheese. cheese not provided.
My streams of thought meet here
Conceptual Photographer and Writer
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Life in a flash - a bi-weekly storytelling blog
MARK PETRUSKA | WRITER
Short essays about novels and other fictional works
By Ian Garrabrant
Home of Micropoetry, Literature, art and philosophy.
Just a fiction writer, trying to reach the world.
I'd curtsy but I'm drunk.
Praying for Eyebrowz 
Like is such an inadequate option
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Thank you, Derrick.
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I’d say you are not a crazy person at all Leslie…profound poem for any reader to reflect upon.
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Thank you Mike.
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Well put. Stop all the clocks… If we have hope, it may take a while. Will there be 60 votes? Is there not 60 among you? Perhaps, I thought, how different it would be had ONE elected Congressman’s son or daughter were in The Pulse? Hmmmm. Or ONE random act of violence not at a night club, not at a movie theater, but what if at a movie set, say an assassination of Brad Pitt or George Cloony. Would things REALLY change?
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I can’t imagine what it would take.
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Heartbreaking. Twisted, hateful mind, had no respect for a human life.
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