Dying Poetry Poem by Barry Middleton
Dying Poetry
dying poetry is hard to write
a ghost leans over the keyboard
my words are empty as blank paper
I cannot put it off till death
for then it is too late
I know what only dying men can know
outside fate stirs the restless trees
the rain has ceased
no one else sees the drifting shadow
time drags on
as if childhood has returned
as if I wait for some coming season
there is no image or metaphor
a waking coma paralyses the mind
and the universe moves on
Mind is just like empty and blank paper. A ghost is leaning over keyboard. This is very hard to express and write a dying poetry. It seems like this as childhood has returned in old age. Behavioral changers happen in old age. Wonderful poem is very well crafted and shared....10
the poem is like the amla, the antioxidant, more you chew, sweeter its juice.
A sadness pervades through the poem. The pain of an impending doom is very well conveyed. Without melodrama n sentimentality, you rouse the reader's emotions. A super 10.
Thanks Nosheen. I see that you completely absorbed the poem, the literal and the emotional.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/6/2024 12:03:20 AM # 1.0.0.1119
there is no image or metaphor a waking coma paralyses the mind and the universe moves on : If any human being can not use the words to think poeticaly there is no life rest for him worth to live.A wonderful perception, Barry!