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grim reaper
by Peter HumphreysI am not kind
I am not mean
I brought
the death
of Jimmy Dean
somewhere
east of Eden
for when
heaven calls
I answer swift
I answer slow
with me
there is
no one way
to go
and never
three steps
to heaven
I was there
when Martin died
and Eddie missed
that bend
I was the storm
when Buddy died
and though
a generation
cried
I am happy
in my labour
for o'er
the world
I am
busy kept
for you humans
are
a funny lot
and
gladly seem
to have lost
the plot
for living
with each other
so millions die
and
I wonder why
from down
upon my hill
you people
seem
so fickle
for at home
I long to rest
if only for
a little
and
never be
forever
polishing
my bloody
sickle
03/15/2007
Author's Note: It is estimated that each hour of every day of every week of every year about 1000 people die from hunger or hunger-related conditions on this little planet. So how many did the reaper reap while you sat and read this poem?
Posted on 03/15/2007
Copyright © 2024 Peter Humphreys
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 03/15/07 at 03:00 PM A thought provoking poem - I can think of a lot of songs written to the dead "famous" - how many songs have been written and how many times do we remember the daily dying from hunger and other reasons totally preventable by human hands? |
| Posted by Laura Doom on 03/15/07 at 08:28 PM I guess it's always been that way on this little planet. I imagine the 'quest' for immortality has taken precedence for those with more than enough bread. |
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