More school scribbling


Post Mortem

Helen Boitoult

Form 4W


Footsteps echo on a stone floor

A cold slab meets them

On it cold eyes stare at nothing

But death

Warm tears touch a soft cheek

The veiled head nods

As a strong arm grips her

To stop the fall

In the box, he seems to smile

In his sleep

But wise men know of the trick

He plays


The door closes on the scene

Outside is life

At least for other humans

She exists

What good is life with him gone?

She asks herself

The coppery moon shines down in answer

No good


She sits in her lonely room

And he in his

Both are empty inside

They mourn

But as night wears on

They are one

As she is carried away

To him


Thoughtful Helen. You have a good sense of rhythmic control. I think you could have omitted the last verse. The poem is more realistic and moving without it.


I was a real melodrama queen back in those days.

All these early works are reproduced entirely as originally written, and with teacher comments where they exist, good or bad. Probably of no interest to anyone but myself, but preserved here nonetheless. Just because.