Like Chaff On Wind (contest If this was your last poem! – Michael mc dermott)
Given one last opportunity to pen a poem?…
I would proceed to write page upon page of memories beginning with what I remembered of the world
since I was born…
Then I would proceed
slowly without hurry
permitting thoughts to unfurl
twirl
inclined towards mankind…
Days upon end without need to speed forth during changing kings and seasons
which all men heed…
This poem I would not edit… I would ink of mankind’s tragedies…No end to these–A muse hungry to eternal feed.
Yet, I would include beauty of simply kind…Found among those of humble heart and stoic mind…
I would fill volumes of little finds
in nature, arts, literature…
I would write about lakes, breezes, flowers
and scents of every type…
I would deliver to you prose of heartfelt reasons… and metered rhyme of mountains, hills, valleys difficult to climb…
I would try to convey to individual minds of happiness found and lost; regained, of sounds of birds in flight during glorious days. The moans of pain.
Yet, how doves coo and babies giggle with parents
who play with their toes and fingers that maybe
one day would begin to scribble…
Of time which
Still rema ined…
…….
……?….. Until last
breath’ s
ex pell ed
l i k e ch a f f o n w i n d~~~~~~~~~
***
(Only death did force this poem to end.)
© 39 minutes ago, Lucretia McCloud death • rhyme • sad • society • pain • nature
ITH & SB 