Thursday, September 4, 2008

Gardener of Death



Poetry by Jim Ashby



I oversee the land that grieves;

acres of lawn and fallen leaves,

prolific mounds of mother earth,

pregnant mementos of rebirth.

Manicured, undulating, hills

mask the role terra firma fills;

to swallow mortals in her loam,

their destiny and final home.

And as they slowly decompose,

their longing rests in He who rose

spurning death and burial shrouds

beatific, through parting clouds.

As for me, the gard’ner of death,

I prune old vines and baby’s breath

wielding the very pruning knife

I use to trim the tree of life.


AtheistExile said...

Written in iambic tetrameter.

"Gardener of Death" is a paraphrase of "Grim Reaper".

Candace said...

Extremely well written, imo. The line, "I prune old vines and baby's breath" gave me chills.