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Dead heads stare from the wall

one can't tell if their glassy eyes
hold the relics of past life
or the sadness of having lost it
to the fires of royal pastime

tiger eyes look pathetically pleading
for re-stitching the stripes on the bones
leopard head growls only in anguish
of his spots being soft spot for target
the open jaws of the croc
can't still swallow the stuck bullet
awed eyes of deer is yet to sense
the muzzle that ruptured its innocence
the jackals, birds, langurs, civets
all frozen in the suddenness of the ***** out.

The hunter's head peeps from a dusty frame
having got his place of pride
among his game.
He held himself with a somber sadness
His massive shoulders sagged to the floor
As if something at his center had just given up
Perhaps life dealt him a bad deck of cards
or perhaps he had just got some very bad news
That is when I noticed the picture at the table
Sitting at his right in his favorite corner booth
was an old picture of a very lovely woman
Come to find out later this was his beloved wife
They were married for 55 wonderful years
She passed away in 2009 but that did not stop him
He still dines with her every day
and kisses her picture every night
He talks to this picture like she is right there with him
Now that is true love my friends  <3   <3
After seeing this picture was just drawn to write a little something. If you are interested in the picture and the story behind this poem click on this link  http://www.foxnews.com/leisure/2014/10/29/photos-elderly-man-eating-lunch-with-picture-deceased-wife-goes-viral/

** True love does not worry about the distance between, for the heart and soul travels through one’s words ~ author unknown **
 Jul 2016 William A Poppen
r
The young receptionist
suddenly crossed her legs
behind the window
of the waiting room of my love,
smacked her gum
and said promise not to leave,
always come back if you do,
even if we give you bad news
for the rest of your life.
 Jun 2016 William A Poppen
tm
glory
 Jun 2016 William A Poppen
tm
sweet to the heart's pallet
a heavy-meal to the mind's stomach  
silver stripes decorate the head.

there comes a time
when one must rest the cutlery
and put the craving to bed.

       - t.m
 Jun 2016 William A Poppen
K Mae
I am author
you my poem, arisen,
my informant
fleshing truth
on this life  
epic without hero
no lie between the lines
 Jun 2016 William A Poppen
ryn
Saw a single clover...
Peeking out from the crack in the wall.
All alone... With no other.
Shivering in the wind.
Still it braved the unknown.
Just to see...
What was shown.

Touched the single clover.
So much courage within something so small,
so green and frail.
Standing tall in the torrential gale.
So much I could take and learn from it.
I shall make it my daily inspiration.
I shall leave it be.
So that on my daily walk back,
it could say to me,
"I'm still here, you are too.
Let's keep on, keeping on,
till our days are through."


On my walk back today,
I have looked forward to see the clover I've learnt to adore.
Only to find that it had gone missing...
It just wasn't there anymore.
The crack was vacant...
I looked all around.
I finally looked down...
And there it was on the ground.
A twisted corpse of what once was...
The storm earlier had ripped it off its perch.
The winds had overcome and left it in the lurch.
Grounded and defenceless,
It quickly became the target of many footsteps
belonging to people too oblivious.

The clover is dead.
But it's still so green.
As I looked at it,
I imagined what it would have said,
"Keep on, keeping on.
You won't truly know...
You won't really learn...
And life won't show,
if you get too afraid of the storm.
And then you won't grow.
Stick your head out
and never be too scared...
To see and be a part of the wonders of the world
that the universe has infinitely shared."


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