When the Final Bell Tolls
Where once the vainglorious hunter held sway,
is now frequented by the frail of mind and body.
I resolve to repent and hold temptations at bay,
but anew succumb to Bacchus' nightly toddy.
I might as well feast at cornucopias immeasurable.
Don't concern myself ‘bout the woes of tomorrow
and give over to love of all things pleasurable.
For when the final bell tolls, it heralds much sorrow.
Fresh to this world, we learn as a child all things new.
As an adult, we pass on these life lessons learned.
Chasing windmills of your mind, you should askew,
as death sneaks up and gives us the rest earned.
In truth, by choice, I would neither have been born;
nor tarry on this mortal coil a minute longer.
Never can we twice step into the same stream lorn:
Steeped in wisdom imparted by those stronger.
With promises, we cannot survive the daily struggle.
Best to grasp current opportunities with both hands.
God has ordained our destiny - let us time juggle
our allotted secular presence, relinquishing our bands.
Life moves on, without any influence from us
and to live in the Now, is the only recourse.
Love and Joy are our birthright - no need to cuss
or writhe in guilt and reproach others in discourse.
When the winds of change blow into your life,
go with the flow; do not kick against the thorn.
This place we call ‘World', is but an illusion of strife
and we rule until the final day, when we are shorn.
Inevitably, when the final curtain call is made,
the secrets that we now argue over and debate,
will be made clear and astound us; bring a tirade.
Settle now to live a life of renown and be first rate.
Pious or not, of the same cup of Life we have supped -
some have lingered longer, void of any concern.
An innate desire for infinity, despite how life rubbed -
eyeing the Finishing Line is only true for the kern.
Suzette Richards's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Lorn: adj. Desolate, forlorn
Kern/kerne: (historically) Light-armed Irish foot-soldier; peasant; boor.
Inspired by the RUBAIYAT, of Omar Khayyám
BASED ON THE FIRST 18 STANZAS out of the between 200 - 600 stanzas attributed to Omar Khayyám, depending on the source.]
Comments about this poem (When the Final Bell Tolls by Suzette Richards )
- The Phonecall Generation, Aidan Cost
- Sleepless Nights, Mimi Ahmed
- Truth is opening, gajanan mishra
- I Am Afraid, Amitava Sur
- How then?, Alem Hailu Gabre Kristos
- Cholesterol, Dr PJ Raj Kamal
- A Confession, Pradip Chattopadhyay
- My Dog Lays at My Feet, David McLansky
- Asthi-Kalasha, Bijay Kant Dubey
- And We Came to Pass, Abdulrasaq Akingbo Okanlambe
Poem of the Day
- 04 Tongues Made Of Glass, Shaun Shane
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- 1914 V: The Soldier, Rupert Brooke
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
- Heather Burns
(13 September 1916 – 23 November 1990)
Alfred Lord Tennyson
(6 August 1809 – 6 October 1892)