Friday April 28th, 2017

The exercise:

Write four lines of prose about: the burial.

Gorgeous spring day. Finally. I think I might have started to get a tan today, actually.

Chance of rain tomorrow afternoon, so I'm glad I enjoyed it while it was here. But it's also my last day before my four day weekend, and I don't have any offices to clean at the end of my shift, so I think I'll like it regardless.

Mine:

They came from miles around for the burial. Each of the surrounding communities sent a representative carrying a pound of soil from his village's churchyard to contribute to the interment.

That was the tradition, dating back generations.

That was how they ensured the newly dead remained underground.

2 Comments:

Greg said...

Last day of ignoring the instructions and complying with National Poetry month instead :)
I like the idea that you have to earth from all the localities to stop the dead from rising, though I wonder what happens if any of those villages dies out...?

The burial
Six feet, six feet, six feet deeper,
Dig men, 'til we strike cold stone!
The woman who'll be buried here,
Does not deserve good loam.

Marc said...

Greg - hmm. I'd say if a village dies out... it wouldn't be for long :P

This is a fine poem to end on, though I'm tempted to point out that there are still two more April prompts (I guess one of them is meant for poetry anyway...) for you to make use of :)