brick (poem 20160520)

when i die
i want to be wrung out
like a dish rag
every ounce of blood
every drop of salty water
squeezed out
i want to be pressure cooked
and made into ceramic bricks
that will last forever
and i want to be built into
a fireplace
where you burn logs
on cold nights
you will hear my voice
whispering in the flames
and the fire will warm my cold
brick nature
and i will feel like flesh
to your fingers
when your run your hands over me


The Daily Post
Daily Prompt: Brick

14 thoughts on “brick (poem 20160520)”

  1. I’d like that brick, please, and would place it in my oven to warm, then I’d take it out, and run it over my sheets. Ah, your poem keeps the cold at bay. 🔥

  2. I always wanted my ashes spread out under the boardwalk in Atlantic City New Jersey
    So I could take a walk whenever I wanted to
    Just came to check you out saw you
    On Roses blog
    See you on the other side of creativity
    The Sheldon Perspective

    1. Thanks for swinging by, Sheldon. I see you on Rose’s site all the time. I hope you enjoyed your visit!

  3. Whereas with this one I am simply one word. JEALOUS. I wish I had written it. I love it. It speaks to me of everything I’d like to have claimed to say nearly as well as you did just here, without any break or ruffle in your feathers, you just laid it out, like a magic carpet of truth. Wow. Brilliant work Crow!

    1. Thank you again. I’ve feeling a little self-conscious from all the praise. Not that I don’t appreciate it! 😳

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