A Poet's Death Is His Life Iv

Rating: 2.6
The dark wings of night enfolded the city upon which Nature had spread a pure white garment of snow; and men deserted the streets for their houses in search of warmth, while the north wind probed in contemplation of laying waste the gardens. There in the suburb stood an old hut heavily laden with snow and on the verge of falling. In a dark recess of that hovel was a poor bed in which a dying youth was lying, staring at the dim light of his oil lamp, made to flicker by the entering winds. He a man in the spring of life who foresaw fully that the peaceful hour of freeing himself from the clutches of life was fast nearing. He was awaiting Death's visit gratefully, and upon his pale face appeared the dawn of hope; and on his lops a sorrowful smile; and in his eyes forgiveness.

He was poet perishing from hunger in the city of living rich. He was placed in the earthly world to enliven the heart of man with his beautiful and profound sayings. He as noble soul, sent by the Goddess of Understanding to soothe and make gentle the human spirit. But alas! He gladly bade the cold earth farewell without receiving a smile from its strange occupants.

He was breathing his last and had no one at his bedside save the oil lamp, his only companion, and some parchments upon which he had inscribed his heart's feeling. As he salvaged the remnants of his withering strength he lifted his hands heavenward; he moved his eyes hopelessly, as if wanting to penetrate the ceiling in order to see the stars from behind the veil clouds.

And he said, "Come, oh beautiful Death; my soul is longing for you. Come close to me and unfasten the irons life, for I am weary of dragging them. Come, oh sweet Death, and deliver me from my neighbors who looked upon me as a stranger because I interpret to them the language of the angels. Hurry, oh peaceful Death, and carry me from these multitudes who left me in the dark corner of oblivion because I do not bleed the weak as they do. Come, oh gentle Death, and enfold me under your white wings, for my fellowmen are not in want of me. Embrace me, oh Death, full of love and mercy; let your lips touch my lips which never tasted a mother's kiss, not touched a sister's cheeks, not caresses a sweetheart's fingertips. Come and take me, by beloved Death."

Then, at the bedside of the dying poet appeared an angel who possessed a supernatural and divine beauty, holding in her hand a wreath of lilies. She embraced him and closed his eyes so he could see no more, except with the eye of his spirit. She impressed a deep and long and gently withdrawn kiss that left and eternal smile of fulfillment upon his lips. Then the hovel became empty and nothing was lest save parchments and papers which the poet had strewn with bitter futility.

Hundreds of years later, when the people of the city arose from the diseases slumber of ignorance and saw the dawn of knowledge, they erected a monument in the most beautiful garden of the city and celebrated a feast every year in honor of that poet, whose writings had freed them. Oh, how cruel is man's ignorance!
Naomi Waters 25 October 2017
This poems format is incredibly different from the ones I have read before. It appears to be a story but as you read you can pick apart the poem aspects of it. Very different I find it incredible
1 0 Reply
Subhas Chandra Chakra 24 September 2017
in honor of that poet, whose writings had freed them Nice poem dear poet.
1 0 Reply
Resh Kav 19 June 2017
Yes... Death is beautiful. It release from all cages. Amazing
1 0 Reply
Upendra Upm 21 April 2017
He gladly bade the cold earth farewell .Like crows crow at the crows caracass, that crowing in a chorus in a high pitch. Crow's intelligence is equal to that of a chimp.Poets of the world, unite. World will lose its deep slumber. World will be shaken from its apathy and insouciance.
1 0 Reply
Upendra Upm 20 April 2017
no one at his death save the oil lamp. We need United Nations Poets Fund. Every country should pass legislation listing poets and collecting their poems, marketing their poems, of registered/licensed poets, We should conduct Poetry selection commission to make people write examination only on poetry.we should declare poets pension scheme.Poetry has saved the world from disaster, society from going for nihilism and anarchy.Poets should acquire power and save all good work done so far.
1 0 Reply
Amar Agarwala 23 February 2016
Another of Gibran's literary genius... exhibited in the excellence of his composition and complete in its melancholic splendor.
3 0 Reply
Bharati Nayak 11 January 2016
A poet's death is his life.How beautifully composed. The poet could not get the recognition, honour and love that were his rightful claims in his life time.What he did not get in his life time was achieved after his death. Truly a poet outlives his death.
2 0 Reply
M Asim Nehal 31 December 2015
Superb poem, very close to the realities, no one can deny this one...
2 0 Reply
Stephani Kievaughan 13 September 2015
this poet earns my highest praise's. this man has wisdom of which one would think. it took a thousand years to gain. an exceedingly deep wisdom. his works amaze and inspire me to no end. i am sure many stand in awe to his ability to paint a picture with his words.
2 0 Reply
Ebi Robert 29 April 2014
men! the poem is big............
0 6 Reply

Delivering Poems Around The World

Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...

2/20/2021 11:20:17 AM #