Selfometer Poems



Death

Oldfield, Brenda M



Death, O come, hear my pulse, fears
Laid waste to thy ears, to beget strife,
To steal, to descend, with thy beastly
Claws, of iron despair! To burst life,
Like a bubble, thrust into thin air!

Death, O lifeís full! Not an empty bubble
Thy thieving void, thatís the big trouble!

So do not haunt me, O mean death,
In thy wrath, in thy smug, wintry eyes,
Spitting cold images, into mine own
To freeze, to burn inside, with toxic cries!

Death, O erode me no more, I drown,
In thy torrential rivers, of pain and grief
O part me not from loved ones, O never,
It floods me in terror, thereís no relief!

Death, O lifeís full! Not an empty bubble!
Thy thieving void, thatís the big trouble!

Death, O do not oppress me, I suffocate,
Under thy wheels of steel, heaving sadness,
Grinding my being, my tears, my passions
To hail, to meet, to be dreaded emptiness!

Aye, I must submit to thee, O death,
To thy cruelty, to thy surreal silhouette
Ah! But all sorrows and, all fears depart,
Exhaled in my very last, gentle breath!

Death, O lifeís full! Not an empty bubble!
Thy thieving void, thatís the big trouble!

Death, O recoil then, thy ashen curtains,
Spurning no more, this voice so grim
But cheers heard, of thy sister, Rebirth
She nurtures life, like a happy poem!

O death, dance to belonging, not longing,
Not bellowing, for unreal below or, above,
But leaping on earth, with a childís heart,
Feeling warm memories, of selfless love!

Death, O youíre not this big trouble,
But a love of life, in a sturdy bubble,
Girded by life, brimming with love!