This is not a suicide note
yet not melancholic fate
I do not die
even so I look and lie
check my pulse
for I live in this verse
and in many more you shall find
scribbled of my fingers, bind
by the want of inspiration
all night, I stayed action
for love of poetry
I made time grew weary
and for the sake of rhyme
I denied the due of time
so if I do not rise by morn
please care not, not mourn
and if perchance you find this piece
please, I plead, hold your peace
for surely as lives this verse
I live large, longer than the universe
NB.
Expression on the immortality of poet and creative works
wow! That means I can never die too! Because the words, scribbled by my fingers shall forever remain
ifedayo - We can all only hope to live on through our words, and let those words uplift the lives of those we leave behind. Blessings to you - Cheryl
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You simply described in this poem the true life of all poets. Because poets don't really die! Thank you for writing this.