17 Nov

by L. Stewart Marsden

Were I to slip beneath the cloak of night
and disappear to ne’er again return,
I wonder what that loss would be
to those who once professed to care
or think on me with sentiment sincere?

I fear the grief would not last long,
its brevity, like life itself, would render short
the memory of me.

But why should I be so surprised?
‘Tis writ throughout the ages past
Memorials of lives cannot last
but crumble and are covered o’re
by time and mounting history
of furthered and diff’ring pursuits.

And as it must ultimately be,
the plight will too encompass thee
and your flight from birth to death
will leave no survivors so bereft
long after you’ve been laid to rest —
your trail, too, will fade from mind
and naught of you will stand behind.


5 Responses to “R.I.P.”

  1. uppervalleygirl November 17, 2012 at 10:24 pm #

    An apt sentiment for November’s gloom. Well done. I enjoy the time travel your poetry affords.

    • skipmars November 18, 2012 at 9:07 am #

      Meaning the use of words? O’er is so much more lyrical than Over, don’t you think? Thanks for your comments.

      • Catherine Dexter November 18, 2012 at 3:34 pm #

        I found this particular poem disturbingly gloomy.. ;/

      • skipmars November 25, 2012 at 9:38 am #

        Me too.

  2. Catherine Dexter May 11, 2013 at 3:38 pm #

    Nope. Re-read it again and it’s still a nope. It’s not the writing though.

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