Tag Archives: poem about mortality.

Thoughts on Mortality, 3 A.M.

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Thoughts on Mortality, 3 A.M.

As my thoughts of death have become more voluminous,
idle reflections have turned much more numinous.
Vigorous fears of my shortness of breath
cause me to reflect on my upcoming death.

Derisory comments from friends that I’m fine
do nothing to quell these absurd fears of mine.
They’re turning me crotchety. Nerves are on edge.
I feel that I’m teetering close to the edge.

I’m Impervious to reason. These thoughts fill my mind
I wonder what sort of relief I could find?
My mind’s set on replay. I’m stuck in a groove
because immortality’s so hard to prove!

Prompts today are crotchety, impervious, derisory and vigorous.

FORTUNATE MISFORTUNE

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Having driven head-on into a concrete wall, I have worse wounds elsewhere, but this 9-inch abrasion on my neck caused by the seat belt is the most painful. Thanks, okcfm for suggesting aloe vera.

Fortunate Misfortune

I’ve  been branded by good fortune, garroted and bruised
by the air bag that inflated and the seat belt that I used.
Why do I say thank-you, in spite of all my pains?
It could have been my spinal cord. It might have been my brains.
My car is not so fortunate. I fear its life has ended.
The impression the wall made on it they say cannot be mended.

Once more I’ve dodged a bullet. Once more I’ve stayed alive.
I’ve used up my sixth cat life in order to survive.
Cuts and bruises all heal up. A car can be replaced,
but I cannot overlook the lesson that I’ve faced.
I want to give up worrying about how life will end.
I have no need to worry. I have three lives left to spend!

Impression is today’s prompt word. It also seems appropriate for the later prompt, survive.

Sweep (On the Death of David Bowie)

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Sweep
(On the Death of David Bowie)

Our world is clearing out around us,
swept by the broom of whatever moves things on.
Like dead leaves curling in their separate corners,
we miss the sweep this time,
but in our mind’s back edge
we imagine our ends—painful or quick,
alone or crowded with the vestiges of our life:
people, things, a cat curled over our feet to warm what can’t be warmed.
That broom leaning there against the corner has plans for us.
There is a world wanting to be filled up again
that needs clearing.

 

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/teen-age-idol/