Poetry Of The Dead Poem by Geoffrey Fafard

Poetry Of The Dead



In all my days of living I had a fear of dying
But now that I am dead
The colour has run
And even memories of me
Fade out of your mind into grey.
- - - -
Just poetry alone is my supper on this side
Of grey and my appetite is for
Your words so sorrowful and full
And I devour them terribly
Because there is no tomorrow
- - -
Hollow is my reasoning sad is my tune
I should find harmony of another lost voice
Then the music would twist and turn
And the sharp of hearing would convert
What they think is the wind singing into a song

Monday, August 22, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: afterlife,aftermath,poetry
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
'Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right, …' Dylan Thomas.
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Edward Kofi Louis 22 August 2016

Death is part of us! However, righteous living will help us to continue the journey. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.

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