JohnHenry Strathmann

Requiescamus In Pace

Requiescamus in Pace, but RIP Me Not

RIP me not from duty binding,
When I still have work to do
And when the taste of orange is finding
Nothing better to pursue
Than the nose I wear in constant care
For fear the air might waft its scent
T'ward my despair
And thus create a stark event.

RIP me not, oh, age and calling,
From my tender, loving id.
Decrepit sense forestalling
An abyss that's off the grid.
I can tolerate the boredom
Of the countless, loveless days,
But I know I can't afford them
If they violate my ways.

RIP me not if only gently
From a sleepy afternoon.
I do often nap contently
Whether sun or whether moon.

RIP me not with cannon barking
On a field where young blood lies.
RIP me not with taggers marking
In gruesome detail my demise.

RIP me not until I'm ready;
That's the thing we're taught to do.
My existence is not petty;
RIP me not until I'm through!

(john-henry strathmann 20170924 0215)

Topic(s) of this poem: mission, mortality, purpose, demise, existence, living

Poem Submitted: Monday, June 18, 2018
Poem Edited: Monday, October 28, 2019

Form: Epitaph


Add this poem to MyPoemList

Rating Card

5 out of 5
0 total ratings
rate this poem

Comments about Requiescamus In Pace by JohnHenry Strathmann

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags