CONSIDERING DEATH

 

When my body cries out

in endless pain

or thinking begins to fade

from a crumbling brain,

can I plunge into the Styx

or must I wait for God

to provide a terminal fix

 

Thomas More wrote in UTOPIA: (1516) that a person afflicted with disease can "free himself from this bitter life…since by death he will put an end not to enjoyment but to torture… it will be a pious and holy action".

 

 

 

LINGERING LIFE

 

        Forget the quality of life

          A mere spark

          in a near corpse

          is reason enough

          for some doctors

and relatives

to continue on

          with feeding tubes

          and liquid drips

          because life is precious

          even when there is

          no apparent joy

          in this still living Being

          After all, miracles happen

          After all, Lasarus was raised

 

 

FAR HORIZON, a poem

 

Unasked and unexpected,

the warning came from the seer:

“Your love ends at the horizon”

Dumfounded, we continued on

 

Married as we were,

we wondered at times

would we ever reach

that far horizon

 

The edge of the universe

remained forever distant

as we struggled through life,

luckily with lasting love

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JANUARY SIXTH, a poem

 

         The dupes, the supremacists, the crazies

          heard the wannabe despot’s call         

          to amass for a bloody assault

          on our sacred Congressional hall

 

          Tear them apart in my name

was the traitorous message

creating a willing mob

with a murderous intent

                   

A thin blue line of brave police

          turned the violent, seditious horde

         with a hero dying on this shameful day,

          the price to save our democratic way

         

LEGS, a poem

 

          Featherlike I floated

          on my powerful legs

          through a long life,

          jogging for miles,

          bounding up stairs

         

          Now, a boulder

on the precipice

of real old age

expecting to fall

into the abyss

 

A tumble lies ahead

to vanish weightlessly

into whatever future

mysteriously awaits

after my earthly journey

TIME, a poem

          What do people do

          with their unused time

          not eaten by work

          leaden or sublime

          Some strive to be creative

          Most merely spend or enjoy

          insignificant pursuits

          consuming their precious days

         

          Whatever the endeavor

          Time’s sands certainly swallow

          all but rare celebrations

          of somebodies and some bards

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AFTER DEATH, a poem

AFTER DEATH

What can be expected

In releasing a soul

in death?

forever deep sleep

in constant blankness

Perhaps an hereafter

of infinite torture

the sour reward

for an ugly past life

Yet some merit better

An eternity of pleasure

to be enjoyed without boredom

in sensuous ensembles

of tasty food and good wine

and varieties of flesh

(March 30, 2017)

DEATH and BEYOND, a sonnet

Let easy death be my painless surprise

In deepest sleep with an exciting dream

My expression locked in a look so wise

Even so I am sure my wife will scream

Will I be hovering above the deathbed

Listening to what those who gather said

What a wonderfully good man he was

If there is a godly judge awaiting

My hope is that the good outweighed the bad

The scales are worth extant contemplating

If I wait too long I may end up sad

Once I cross River Styx no returning

Maybe I will be in heaven and glad

Otherwise this body may be burning

(This sonnet was written in January, 2017)