A Poet's Bedside Note

This is not a suicide note
yet not melancholic fate
I do not die
even so I look and lie
check my pulse
for I live in this verse
and in many more you shall find
scribbled of my fingers, bind
by the want of inspiration
all night, I stayed action
for love of poetry
I made time grew weary
and for the sake of rhyme
I denied the due of time
so if I do not rise by morn
please care not, not mourn
and if perchance you find this piece
please, I plead, hold your peace
for surely as lives this verse
I live large, longer than the universe




NB.
Expression on the immortality of poet and creative works

by ifedayo oshin

Comments (3)

You simply described in this poem the true life of all poets. Because poets don't really die! Thank you for writing this.
wow! That means I can never die too! Because the words, scribbled by my fingers shall forever remain
ifedayo - We can all only hope to live on through our words, and let those words uplift the lives of those we leave behind. Blessings to you - Cheryl