The dead outside my window

Snow Upon Snow

There’s a body that’s going into the cold ground
A hooded man hovers beside the new-found
Hole in the earth where the dead one will go,
And silently falls the fresh snow upon snow.

There’s a someone on satin, who won’t really mind
If her dress is in fashion, her hair’s all entwin’d
His mortgage is paid—he’s got enough dough,
And silently falls the fresh snow upon snow.

There’s a corpus delecti descending today
I dream that the Angels are holding at bay
The demons who prey on the newly laid low,
And silently falls the fresh snow upon snow.

Now the hooded one raises his shovel again
To finish the job of the burial of men
Then home to his family, he leaves the barrow,
As silently falls the fresh snow upon snow.

©2008-Kathleen Mortensen

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18 thoughts on “The dead outside my window

  1. I actually love the phrasing of “snow upon snow.” Very interesting subject matter, but the idea of the observer is to observe whatever crosses our path. You've done that with style.


  2. I am so glad you took a chance to visit the Voice, even though what you read was not your cup of tea.Snow Upon Snow is a moving word picture. I'm a rhyme and meter guy myself. Robert Frost (I was privileged to hear him say his poems at Amherst College way back) said writing poetry without rhyme is like playing tennis without a net. However he wrote lots without rhyme himself.I will visit with you early and often.Most of my posts are about the subjects which one is not supposed to discuss in polite company, but the guys I hang out with aren't polite, but oh so interesting.I might sprinkle in some of my doggerel now and then. I self published The Poet and the Pendulum in 2001, as a kind of memoir.


  3. I added a link of your blog to my blogroll. I like this poem. I really admire how you work so much on your poetry. I used to write poetry years ago. I was never that good, though.


  4. Thank you all for you interest in the poem and for your compliments. I happened to look out my kitchen window and see this taking place and the words just spilled out of me.Leanderthal, I envy your having heard Frost in person and I would be keen to read some of your poetic works.Catherine, give it a shot! I had not put poetic pen to the page for a very long time and when I did, I suddenly discovered a creature that had been hiding out, just waiting to be reborn!Kat


  5. I loved this poem. Its so different to your usual humorous ones. I never thought about grave diggers before. Its a mournful job. I love the last line “As silently falls the fresh snow upon snow” Its so….cold. xx


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