PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

He'd shattered where he landed,
his composure very fleeting like
the pieces he had scattered when
he'd found a proper valve to release.
His descent was a whistling one.
Plummetting like bombs in warring skies;
his explosion went mostly unheard and unseen,
and nobody called us until just now.
Complaints of all the crying dust
and this denseness to the air where he'd
flattened against the squarish stones
were all we'd had to signal us
to where he'd hit and stayed and gone.
And now that we've addressed the lot,
people will shove aside, as if
we're just here to inconvenience them,
and not to find the pieces of what once had been a man.