Is there a rhyme or reason to this shared experience of living? Is there a quiet understanding when we have lived, what happens after the final breath? Does death require reason? What if we can only fathom death and living from our own experiences? Saif and I try to tackle some of these questions about one of the most difficult topics, life and death.
Please take a moment to visit Saif page and read his work.
Life and Death in Haiku
By Saif
One thousand moons rise
Drag the oceans to my bed
Gin is dry at least
Her word was her bond
Freed like a dress in the wind
And dropped to his bed
A sapling rises
Amid a winter snowstorm
Death eyes bad timing
Purple tulip tall
The most beautiful of all
I killed the others.
Beautiful things die
Because I want to kill them
This is my power
Age steals memory
We forget the face of youth
Many deaths one life
Samurai have swords
The cowboy has his pistol
I possess a noose
Dear little sparrow
Carry away my sorrow
Let it crush you too.
A Lysol Sunrise
Rays disinfecting my dreams
Time to go to work
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A Death That Matters
By Dorie Snow
I want to be Ophelia.
Drifting slowly down the river
Flowers in my hair.
I want to drown out the sounds
Of the world’s cruel meanings.
In my garden limericks of truth
Intended to grow, but only decay
Freely flows.
Overcrowded brow tendrils of pain
My mind has slowly gone insane.
It wasn’t always this way
I lived carefree picking wildflowers
Singing pretty songs.
My eyes glimmered with promise,
My heart met every new dawn.
I ran barefoot in fields
Read poetry to the birds
I drank from the springs
The purest of substance
The dreams of prose.
I had dreams of grandeur
I had visions so enchantingly bright.
Then I met the man, tall, fair, and true
I wanted to share all of my secrets
All of my light, all of my sustenance.
We did the dance, merry lovers do
We ran away to fields brand new.
He thought boldly, strived and tried,
In his eyes fear he’d always hide.
I gave my all, everything I could
I stood beside him, all the way through.
He took my poetry, forced me to smile,
He gave me flowers that withered
Before their time, the birds stopped coming,
The spring ran dry.
I lost everything, the ability to cry.
I saw myself from withered disgrace
To fall below, lose my grace.
I no longer sing, sweet and clear
I sing mournful sounds for all to hear.
My garden shriveled, my heart with left
With no trace.
I tried to reach him, I laid it all bare,
In return my ripped gown
My broken limp hair.
To have lived so well,
eaten my fill of sun,
drunk beautiful wines,
sung love to the morning,
read verses to the birds,
explored wild meadows in a dappled glow
to become this ragged shell
of endless sorrowful snow
I want to be Ophelia, I want to be free
I flew so high, life surprised me.
I thought forever all would be grand
Only to return empty in my hand.
I will float in the river petals surround
My regret a lost whisper,
One final tear,
I’ll return to the beginning,
Life without sound.
Thank you for reading, we appreciate your time. Many Blessings.




So much fun working together with you on this Dorie!
That was all Dorie. She has a knack for finding amazing photos.