Somebody died shamefully and left me all their money.
And so it was, I tried to live just like them
Only to die just as wrecklessly.
I was a ghost for Halloween
All forty-one years of my life
Gathered for all soul’s day.
No one questioned my motives.
it was ok it had a lot of meaning to it but its just i like poems that rhyme no offense like your poem was good but i just more or a rhymeing kinda person
very nice poem Marina, most people are answering wrong question in their life..no body to ask right one..i also wrote death poem..read any time
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. I like your poem better. It has a depth and a twist at the end. Money matters little, especially during the gathering of one's soul on All Saints Day due to reckless living. Nice write. Sincerely, William