Rupert John Cornford (1915 - 1936 / England - literary period: Modern)
Sergei Mironovitch Kirov
Nothing is ever certain, nothing is ever safe,
To-day is overturning yesterday's settled good.
Everything dying keeps a hungry grip on life.
Nothing is ever born without screaming and blood.
Understand the weapon, understand the wound:
What shapeless past was hammered to action by his deeds,
Only in constant action was his constant certainty found.
He will throw a longer shadow as time recedes.
Online text copyright © 2009, Ian Lancashire (the Department of English) and the University of Toronto.
Comments about this poem (Sergei Mironovitch Kirov by Rupert John Cornford )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
William Ernest Henley
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings