Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

I am the dead man’s keeper,
His sepulchre of rusting bones.
Time like a major villain

Holds me to task for sipping days
And seeking seconds with an empty vase.
These are the dead man’s eyes.

These his fingers scratching earth.
I am the dead man’s reaper,
The Father Time of dying days.

Time like a loose-limbed woman
Holds me down for maggots flesh
And sings sad songs for dead men’s love.

An old poem of mine revived.

a creepy look at a "picture" of death from someone that would seem to deal in such matters by occupation......the work , the consequences of time

Thank you, Saw.

eat the bread, drink the wine, fill the bowl
time will wait you


bravo, prolific Dadio!!!!!

Thank you, Arcadia.