PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

My husband, who had ordered so much death,

could not avoid his last gasping breath.

The stars that glisten in the sky tonight

seem to bring a rather hostile light

to bear upon our ideology.

Scatter around him scented flowers; a whiff

of their scents to accompany that stiff.

I have a question that looms beyond the sight

of the Party; looming large, that once was slight;

now, a locomotive it rushes at me---

I hear the baleful tolling of its bell

But none among the comrades can I tell

my question, for Ilyich, about hell.

What if the Orthodox Church's Faith is right?

Starward-Led