nobody wants to be forgotten.
nobody wants to die when dead.
an artist is just a bit braver: they leave little snapshots
of themselves
for the future to find.
like when we used to write/draw silly things
in the margins and inside covers
of our textbooks.
timecapsules for the upcomingclassmen.
one’s feeble attempts to ensure an afterlife.
a kind of makeshift immortality.
everybody here does it.
sign and date it.
I was here.
------ X
My hubby was an artist Jack and you describe an artists immortality in a knowing way in this poem of yours. Very cool work. I agree that we poets do the same with our poems too but it is a bit of a lottery as to who will be remembered though! lol but I expect dead poets soul never truly rest and we shall be able to look down and check it out! Thanks for the confirmation. 10 from Tai
I never thought about it......but, yeah, I suppose that is what we were doing when we would draw those things in our schoolbooks. I love when a poem can make you see life in a different light that you may not have noticed before. This poem does that for me. I think we leave those little timecapsules everywhere........Sincerely, Mary
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the poem fills me with a sad, but true absolution. All we ever really have is words..I suppose it's better than nothing at all.