Notes About The Poem
Poem 10
This extended epitaph is from my new anthology, Voices From Mt. Olive Cemetery. It is a work in progress.
Harry Boatman 1879-1916
Harry Boatman
1879-1916
It is true my friends.
A man thinks of many things
While on his deathbed.
A man remembers and reflects and responds.
He responds, as with a child, to
The insistent pleadings and proddings of the wall clock,
Responds and obeys, as with a woman expecting, to
The cosmic commands of the moody evening tides.
The incredible colossal circling globe, of
Spasm and sequence, of eyes opening and shutting.
And there it was my friends!
My last orgasmic breath!
My final desperate inhalation!
My final impeccable embrace!
And when it happened,
When my closing eyes saw sable night at noon time,
Two black and yellow butterflies,
Mating mindlessly in the side garden,
Took me by spirit
High above the wanton walnut trees here,
And at last, I saw
The soft benevolent eyes of sweet Jesus
Beckoning me to join him, there!
From the blinding masticating center
Of the rising resplendent sun.
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