Wednesday, December 04, 2002

Life, that diligent poet

Life, that diligent poet, day by day
Scrawls his work upon us
In blood and tears and sweat and spit
Until our time is measured in years
And we are covered in lines that he has writ.
Death, contrary, is in no hurry
To share her darker verse,
Saving the craft of her rhyme
For a quieter time
When we are more likely to enjoy it.

- R. Cody -

6 comments:

darkangelwrites said...

Never a happy line? Fun metaphor.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Oh this is brilliant. Wow!

Richard Cody said...

Laugh lines, darkangel!

Thanks, Sherry!

This poem and many more are included in my collection, This is Not My Heart, available at Lulu and Amazon, just check out the links on the right side of my blog page.

Laura Maria said...

Captivating and true

Andy said...

Hello.
My first time here from The Poetry Pantry.

Interesting thoughts indeed.

Thanks for sharing.

Thief In The Night

Richard Cody said...

Thanks for reading all!