Chanted Lines of Poetry

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When I die~
embalm my skin with sonnets
fresh n’ fragrant
from the stalks of imagery,

shower me
not with reluctant roses
and strings of singed marigolds,
but let poetry
echo from hard bound silences,

let murmured hymns
whispered threadbare down eons
be replaced with
lines of vibrant vignettes~
replete with emotion,

read to me
from volumes of ornate metaphor
bathing me in
dewdrops of imagination,
pour a fluid cinquain
down my parched throat.

cover me
with a spun fabric
sequined in versicolor haiku,
such that
the flames of blazing pyre
chant verses
to ignite poetry in
fertile minds of posterity…

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