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Here I am Bone bits and ashes. That’s me in a cardboard box, minus my obligatory twenty one grams Life force, where art thou now? Citadel o’er mounted Moat swum Walls scaled Invaded and overcome Here I am. What for the pills, injections, operations? Did I not barricade the sanctity which was my life? Had I not purchased enough shoes, clothes, deodorants, garbage disposals, bar-b-q-pits.... Did not my SUV growl warning from the drive, Pool man defend the rear gate, Duty-gard alarm the windows? Yet, here I am. Surely, I had more protection than the Jones's? So, why am I here? In a cardboard box bone bits and ashes. And who, the hell, took my twenty-one grams? |
Comments?
Sorry, you cannot respond to an archived poemReviews
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Darkly humorous
This hooked me with the title, drew me in and kept me to the smiling end. Refreshingly different, quirky and slick. Nice work. W.. Rewarded 4
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i loved it!!
this has to be my favorite read today. you captured a spark of brilliance, put it to verse, and set my mind ablaze. pure brilliance.. Rewarded 4
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Thank you so much for your comment. 5 posted this several days ago and it was entirely overlooked or maybe no one got it but you. Thanks again.
Eosmia
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I lOVE IT!!!
this was a great read . . . really loved it. -
hi
good one have a nice day.... -
It's been a pleasure.
I contemplate stuff like this all the time, much too much. It is nice to see I am not alone, and especially nice to see this same sentiment expressed so well by another. I am currently enrapt in astute endeavor to discover the secret of existence. When I come across the thief of your twenty-one grams, I'll IM you poste-haste.
As far as the poem, brilliant. I love the concept of barricading one's life with the many futile protective measures as a bane to death. Funny, but the man who's life is filled with precaution is usually hit by a bus or septic blue-dyed meteorite from an overhead airliner. We never know.
The tone is teriffic and laced with humorous irony that causes the corners of the mouth to dance in wry smile. You did this quite well and I shout your praises for it.
Thanks for this,
Al. Rewarded 4
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Thanks so much for your comment, Al. I also appreciate you letting me in on the rather confusing set of comments under the sonnet. Its not a very strong sonnet. I was really just trying to see if I could learn to write one. As for line 14. I have no idea i'll have to take a look at it. Thanks again.
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"On the day when death will knock at thy door what wilt thou offer
to him?
Oh, I will set before my guest the full vessel of my life--I will
never let him go with empty hands.
All the sweet vintage of all my autumn days and summer nights,
all the earnings and gleanings of my busy life will I place
before him at the close of my days when death will knock at my door
O thou the last fulfilment of life, Death, my death, come and
whisper to me!
Day after day I have kept watch for thee; for thee have I borne
the joys and pangs of life.
All that I am, that I have, that I hope and all my love have ever
flowed towards thee in depth of secrecy. One final glance from
thine eyes and my life will be ever thine own.
The flowers have been woven and the garland is ready for the
bridegroom. After the wedding the bride shall leave her home and
meet her lord alone in the solitude of night.
I know that the day will come when my sight of this earth shall
be lost, and life will take its leave in silence, drawing the
last curtain over my eyes.
Yet stars will watch at night, and morning rise as before, and
hours heave like sea waves casting up pleasures and pains.
When I think of this end of my moments, the barrier of the
moments breaks and I see by the light of death thy world with its
careless treasures. Rare is its lowliest seat, rare is its meanest of lives.
Things that I longed for in vain and things that I got--let thempass.
Let me but truly possess the things that I ever spurned
and overlooked" Tagore
I couldn't find any word to praise this work.so typed this poem of Tagore.
the poem is really wonderful.Man of ashes will become ashes..inspite of life long struggle, fight, love ,vanity one day everybody has to go to that cardborad box..to the six feet land...and the loss is only tweenty one gram!
marvellous write.
keep delighting us
jo
P:S:I didn't understand why you have put this in humor category?. Rewarded 4
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Awessome
I love it. I have read only about 15 poems on here so far, but this is the best. I love how the narrator talks about all the things we do in life to "protect" ourselves. I'm assuming the 21 grams refers to the soul, right? Or what is lost when we die?. Rewarded 4
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Sly and wry, eosmia...
...and perfectly (I mean that) dictioned and lined and rhythmed. Very fine and enjoyable for me to read and ponder. I suppose "Science" will have one of their laboratory-tested answers for that lost "21 grams", but they're not poets last time I looked. Only a poet can zero in so drolly as you did in this one, ending the poem with that rhetorical frustration.
Very fine all the way, especially all the detailed protective measures, useless in the long run, in your 4th and 5th stanzas.
Lad
Btw, I dropped using those applause thingies a few months ago, although I'm perfectly ok with others using them if they wish. They reminded me too much of all my years having to put patronizing grades on student papers - UGH! - like A, B, C and so on. I much prefer commentary. Hope you understand, J.. Rewarded 8
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hey esomia
death is such a heavy subject (21 grams) that if don't give it some levity it like doubles in grams and gets depressing.
i love the consumerism theme too, you can't take your SUV with you.
dave. Rewarded 4
Windhover
May 15, 2006
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