24 Hours to Live
Christmas was truly magical,
Sharing love’s tender gift,
To sing a merry madrigal,
And ring in a New Year’s riff!
But, March can deal us madness,
Spring can go unseen,
In death’s certain sadness
We grey the growing green.
A last sunset will be framed,
As a last song fades away,
A cold molded stone will be reluctantly named,
And yours will pray.
Was it a blessing to have known?
Or a curse to have not?
Would most souls rather be shown?
Would most rather be given a shot?
To love yours like never before,
To hug yours until the end of the world,
To kiss yours until your lips will kiss no more,
To love yours like never before.
Written by Mark L. Berryann ©2011
M.. BERRYANN's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (24 Hours to Live by M.. BERRYANN )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(22 March 1941 -)
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
- No Man Is An Island, John Donne
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- A Child's Christmas in Wales, Dylan Thomas
- I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
Poem of the Day
- There Goes My Baby, Zahoor Butt
- One Ethics One Language, Akhtar Jawad
- i hide acorns, cristobal Benjumea
- do we go to toulouse or new york, cristobal Benjumea
- do we go to toloulouse or new york, cristobal Benjumea
- I see the ruins did love win or lose, cristobal Benjumea
- REAL HUMANITY, hasmukh amathalal
- Non Sequitur with Sirius, Paul Hartal
- Suiyang, My Hometown, Luo Zhihai
- Correction Room, Akhtar Jawad