Mortality
Where shall we go when we grow old
And forever
waits ahead?
What dreams will
there be left to chase
In these
lives before we’re dead?
Oh sing to
me my bonny lass
Of those
glorious glory days
When summer
held us blessed
In the
lamplight of her gaze
And high
upon the hilltops
Where we
rambled in our prime
Midst gorse and swathes of bracken
We abjured the
march of time.
Oh we shall
sail to nothingness
Where circling seabirds cry
Above the boundless
ocean
That greets us when we die.
Picture - West Retford Cemetery, Notts
Lovely poem. I hate to think of a day when we can't ramble any more. There's got to be an after life. I hope so anyway.
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading "Mortality" David. Ahead I just see a dark, endless ocean with no consciousness of it whatsoever.
DeleteVery nice, and fitting for these cold dark days near the solstice.
ReplyDeleteBriefly, I had thought of finding a place for the word "solstice" but it just didn't seem to fit. Thank you for reading this poem Jennifer.
DeleteI feel that way about my inevitable end. Nothing there at the end of the road, just oblivion. So I shall not be coming back to haunt you YP.
ReplyDeletePhew! That's a relief.
DeleteSplendid visual imaging in your poetry, YP.
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading it Mary.
DeleteAn interesting, well-constructed poem, Neil, but I of course as a believing Christian do not accept that the view you describe is true. Let me say this one thing: The joy with which your poem looks backward to good times in the past is very much like the joy with which a Christian looks forward to good times in the future.
ReplyDeleteThat is indeed a key difference. For non-believers like myself, the only possibility of Heaven is what we make of life here on Earth. Thanks for reading "Mortality" Bob.
DeleteThank you for sharing this poem. It is well written and expresses the feeling of mortality clearly.
ReplyDeleteYour reaction is pleasing Bonnie.
DeleteHaving now read it a number of times I can solemnly pronounce that I think it is a beautiful poem looking thoughtfully behinds and ahead at what awaits us.
ReplyDeleteYour comment alone makes the crafting of that poem feel worthwhile. Thank you Graham. I guess and indeed hope that it makes most sense to non-believers.
DeleteI love the poem. I also think that picture is awesome. Did you take it?
ReplyDeleteYes I did take the picture Debby and then edited it to create a more other worldly appearance to fit with the poem.
DeleteI used to go to the cemetery every Sunday with my Dad to visit his Mum and Dad's grave when I was a little girl. It wasn't a somber occasion. They used to leave great big piles of grass on the road side and Dad used to push me into them, funny what you remember isn't it?
ReplyDeleteOn one grave it said.
'Where ever you be, let your wind go free, cos that was the cause of the death of me'.
I've never forgotten that and often wonder exactly what it was that killed him. lol
Briony
x
You are right Briony. We just cannot control what we remember. I think that the deceased was probably killed by excessive flatulence. Perhaps somebody lit a match"!
DeleteThe saddest set of graves I ever saw are from an historical cemetery a walk from me. Back in the early 1800s a young man was killed when a boulder fell on him in a quarry. Next to him in the grave of his infant son, born after his father's death, and lived but a few months. Next to that grave is the grave of the young mother, dead a few months after her boy, not even two years after the death of her husband.
ReplyDeleteThere's a story there Debby. Just close your eyes and imagine a tale about that sadly doomed family.
DeleteSome down to earth thoughts here. Most of us ignore the passage of time and do not consider how much is left.
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading and considering the poem Red. Much appreciated.
DeleteAn excellent poem and it's good to know it's author is the author of the accompanying photo.
ReplyDeleteI have a different view of our eternity. I think our moldering bodies do go somewhere, eventually, and we end as atoms pinging from stars in the universe. We might even bump into some atom we hoped to see.
Of course the atoms from which we are composed will never disappear entirely. Thanks for reading the poem Joanne.
DeleteA beautiful poem, matched perfectly with the beautiful picture. For me, cemeteries are places where I like to walk and ponder. Death is not a taboo for me in conversation, and why would it? It is part of life, whether we like it or not.
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading and considering Meike.
Delete