| I HAVE a rendezvous with Death |
|
| At some disputed barricade, |
|
| When Spring comes back with rustling shade |
|
| And apple-blossoms fill the air— |
|
| I have a rendezvous with Death |
5 |
| When Spring brings back blue days and fair. |
|
|
| It may be he shall take my hand |
|
| And lead me into his dark land |
|
| And close my eyes and quench my breath— |
|
| It may be I shall pass him still. |
10 |
| I have a rendezvous with Death |
|
| On some scarred slope of battered hill, |
|
| When Spring comes round again this year |
|
| And the first meadow-flowers appear. |
|
|
| God knows ’twere better to be deep |
15 |
| Pillowed in silk and scented down, |
|
| Where love throbs out in blissful sleep, |
|
| Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath, |
|
| Where hushed awakenings are dear… |
|
| But I’ve a rendezvous with Death |
20 |
| At midnight in some flaming town, |
|
| When Spring trips north again this year, |
|
| And I to my pledged word am true, |
|
| I shall not fail that rendezvous. |
Jeez, Harry! Cheer up. Its not that bad yet. Or is it?
As I recall, this was one of JFK’s favorite poems. Prophetic, no?
But seriously, poetry and death go together like butter and popcorn. Wrote this one a few years ago. Obviously, it’s not Dylan Thomas, but I can’t write poetry. I just lay the words down in admiration for those better than me. Nothing more…
Just Die
Pride is a stupid warrior
Chin out, eyes vacant
Strutting conspicuously
Vanity, his delicate shield
Boastfulness, an impotent weapon
And to hang my head in shame
Is like a blood red blanket
Covering my eyes
While fear, guides you blind
Through this world, this battlefield
I will remain a fallen, bloody soldier
Remembering my youth,
In life, and in college
When equivocation was my major
Older now, I’m still here, undecided
Though all alone
For my comrades have also fallen
And here it is I choose to stay
Out among the dunes and drifts
Where warm air taste like whiskey
Where being a man
Means dying alone with God watching
The hunger always in me, a howling wolf
At the moon and the stars and this life
That pierces me like bright white light
Guiding me to be who I want to be forever
A shamed and fallen soldier
A lustful shattered remnant
A poet and philosopher
Adding to the words and works of life
With my eyes open and my ears constantly aware
Of so many voices absorbed in the air
Breathing now my steady vow,
My solemn pledge never again to lie
To the silence pervading this broken body
If you want to be a great poet
Just die
No worries, I’m perfectly fine.
Ever since hes been on Joe Rogens show Ive been listening to Jocko Willink and he did a segmemt about this poem and i thought it was prophetic and particularly meaningful as we progress thru this 4th Turning.
I had never read it before and figured others here might not have either.
Is awesome. I’ve never read it either. Thanks for throwing it out into the ethernet. Is really poignant. IMO…
Saw this link posted on another blog today. Is too good not to share here for those who may not have seen it:
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/175772