Poem Hunter
To My Alma Mater To Be
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994 / Andernach)

To My Alma Mater To Be

Could I halt ‘tis waning Time
That out of Thy arms
Keeps dragging me a crime
Would I forever in Thy warmth

Pitch my tent. The papers lay
Ambush of me a siege:
The tramp of my slay
Or theirs my ears screech?

Rejoice! For whate’er the outcry
Of my battle may be,
‘Tis field I then laid paradisely

And now stand solacely
Deprived will ne’er, ne’er be
Nibbled away at my feebling memory.

User Rating: 5 / 5 ( 0 votes ) 3

Mary Elizabeth Frye

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

Comments (3)

A low-profile 43rd. birthday in 'a tomb of a room', but he appreciates having the rented room. A successful poem of the counterculture. It appealed to me.
awesome poem To end up alone in a tomb of a room without cigarettes or wine- just a lightbulb and a potbelly, grayhaired, and glad to have the room. great write great 10+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Glad to have the room... indeed, here is the praise I share.