Juli 5, 1988

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  • Death

    Juli 5, 1988

    There is no morning dew
       They lower the casket
    I will miss you
       into the earth
    I whisper "Granpa"
      We sprinkle some dirt
    And recall your banter

    I think of your name
      prepared and carved in stone
    "Anderson" mine's the same
      Is this how we're known?
    How could I let it be
      taken away from me?

    Who is left to think me grand?
    or offer a prayer lest I be damned?

    You applauded me.
      next to Gramma
    You were proud
      I often wonder
    Who is really underground?

    How can I forget?
    The pictures remain
    making time useless
    You're still the same.

    They say you were old
    and have lived a full life---
    their excuse
    to somehow make it right

    The grass is burnt
    your flowers a wilted
    in the noonday sun

               However,
          we know forever

             Adjo for da
           dyrbar, Farfar
                Adjo
       och tack sa mycket


    1988 

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    Cryptics500 commented on Juli 5, 1988

    03-12-2015

    RR Reading Railroad

    Cryptics500 commented on Juli 5, 1988

    03-12-2015

    "Want Jon to tell me how I can put one different picture for each poem, Tony." Said the paper Tiger to the Roaring Lion.

    Cryptics500 commented on Juli 5, 1988

    03-12-2015

    Adam Merrick 55th guaranteed Risk Free (a mess) please, please me 146 Baker LA in EP

    Cryptics500 commented on Juli 5, 1988

    02-24-2015

    Choose Life. Hey, Mikey He likes it.

    DarkAngel316 commented on Juli 5, 1988

    03-11-2014

    Beautiful Words. I wonder if I could use this as an inspiration for my father's 3 year anniversary?

    Cryptics500

    07/15/2014

    Sure, sorry so late getting back to you.

    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

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