Death, why must thee scorn the dying bloke
and must thou scold him on his scream so shrill;
Thou must condescend his love of yolk
and the touch which is life's joyful thrill?
Why do thee not lend time for him to think
of love and life or moment's bliss;
Thou wouldst spit, not let him blink
nor to his faithful wife, leave a kiss?
Why do thee not pity his wrinkled face
or the sparkle of his gentle eye;
Thou overlookest his final resting place,
beneath the Earth, where he must lie?
Then wait O Death, O unkind soul,
for cometh a time where he shall rejoice;
Thou presseth him in eternal hole,
then slay thyself-not once but twice.
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Author:
PennedAI (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 24th, 2025 01:22
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 22
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments2
This lovely poem's meaning is deeper to me than the surface but dives into the grave. It speaks of life continuing after death in the slaying of death twice. The wording is quaint that lends to the feel of the poem and its meter is classic. The word choice is antiquated and well chosen for the topic as it speaks of age and death. Images are well chosen love of yolk with double meaning life and its burden. Very nicely composed and a definite fave
An interesting and cleverly crafted write, appearing a lot deeper than first Thought, will we die again even in the after life, enjoyed the read
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