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Death

Looking out with non-seeing eyes
That was there a time ago
Concealing life that life contained
No longer there but for all to see
Love no longer can it give
But exists till memories are no more
They are many and we are few
We become them but they never us
Our future is theirs and theirs ours
The thought of it chills our bones
And fear clouds our thoughts
Seasons no longer touch the flesh
Pain is no longer what they feel
But we should worry not
Remember they sleep and toil no more
It is our future as was theirs
When it arrives, embrace with open arms
For resistance is futile and we cannot win
And remember this for it will prove true
Death is awaiting for all that has breath
So greet him and rest in peace

General feelings about the poem

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Reviews


  • Dijon
    September 17

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    i thought it had a great insite on the most hated word. "death" is something we know nothing about but see all the time....meaning it happens to be the only thing we see happen all the time but we have no clue whats happen when are love ones meet "death" but we all know we are all destined for it

  • rhythmdivine
    September 18

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    Hey Robin,

    Your lines invariably hark back to Emily Dickinson's poems on Death and on a contradictory thought reminded me of John Donne as well...your opening lines with the nonseeing eyes reminded me of Dickinson's "I heard a fly buzz when i died", where in she says " I could not see to see"..I liked your usage of phrase as well here..Unlike John Donne's "Death be not proud" You have made us feel proud of Death..Thanks or chiming in those bells..I am unsure if you were inspired of either of them..However it has given me a wonderul read of a lovely lively death poem..


    Love and Peace
    Rhythmdivine

    . Rewarded 8

    • Robin Greene
      September 18
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      Thank you for comments they are very muc appreciated. I have to confess that I read very little Emily Dickinson and none of John Donne. My favourites are Keats, Wilfred Owen,Rupert Brooke and Christina Rossetti. However, I have a copy of the John Donne poem so a little homework before bed. Once again thank you.