Where are all the mourners
who said they were my friends
the girls who cried when we split up
had no tears in the end
the endless conversationalists
struck dumb and fail to speak
and all who said they'd miss me
somehow now can't stand and weep
Where are all the singers
who wanted to lament
the writers and the poets
with words they never meant
fairweather friends and neighbours
that said there's nothing left
in life you can be so alone
and still alone in death.
excellent Charles. i feel the only ones you want back in the end, are the ones who adored you right from the start- no questions asked. thank you for your writings, i have been reading them tonight, i am new here, new to the craft, & i am enjoying it beyond words. with love, Susan.
alone in life and alone in death. Alone with oneself... great poem
But how do you know it will be that way? I often think about that. At one time, I was somewhat disturbed by the thought - not knowing who will come. But then, I realized that there is no alternative for 'what is', so I quit thinking about it.
A stark and heart-rending (and eloquent) poem. The last line contains hope.
Praise for your eloquent write. I can hear the sad music playing in this one, Charles. Hope for a better tomorrow. Kindest regards, Sandra
I love the way you go through each person, more as a statement than a question. At the end of life we only need the people around us who showed their feeling of love. Best wishes, John
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Don't think you'll ever have to worry about that, Charlie. You have many admirers and your funeral will be a huge celebration! Just don't go partying yet............Would hate to lose you. Linda