I had to write my elegy
And my obituary too,
Wonder who would sing my dirge -
Of that I have not a clue!
An old coffin they found for me
A shroud that had better days,
My last rites shoddily done,
But such are the worldly ways;
An old pastor ministering
Grave-diggers waiting beside,
Thank heavens for mercies small
And this poor morsel of pride;
Deemed useless to the human race
My verses sniggered with jest,
No tributes they fetched for me
Save this wooded yard to rest;
Once I wrote for the mortal world
To be berated instead,
Hence, I will now change my ways
And I shall write for the dead.
***********
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Amar, Enjoyed reading your poem! ! Lets hope there is poetry in Heaven. Rate a 10.