The Moya View

Tag: death poetry

  • Last Ride on the Arkansas

    Last Ride on the Arkansas

    On her last ride on the Arkansas river, she watched the world turn crooked, all the hickory shading yellow, their leaf tears forming sunny arrows in the flow, nuts falling in the glide, bringing smoker memories of hams cooked under their roast, red maples tapped for their syrup, the unharvested loblolly pines dropping their branches…

  • Nun Sense

    Nun Sense

    Sister Dorothea would whack my knuckles with the flat edge of a desk ruler trying to knock some nun sense into me every five times I messed up on fractions. She had that well lived-in roundness the faithful get after hard years of serving Christ in the smallest crosses of existence. From the back she…

  • Sometimes Love Can Stand No Other: The Love Story of Asim and Melati

    Sometimes Love Can Stand No Other: The Love Story of Asim and Melati

    She was everybody‚Äôs hope. He was his own. – He had been caged for 224 years, a fearsome symmetrical number, 71 free to roam the mirror forest night canopy, a tyger yearning to be a true tiger and not a Tigger, a lonely pacing streak of orange and black hungering to be proudly the last…

  • Bloody Disgusting, Absolutely Horrifying

    Bloody Disgusting, Absolutely Horrifying

    Every death is disgusting. Every death is not horrifying. – The odor of death makes everyone turn away and is thus disgusting to the core. – The important deaths turn the body back to the fatal beauty, the deadly stillness, – that was once the most important human thing of their life, – their death…