Paul Schneiter | + Follow Poet |
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It's Over

I wondered in my shallow years
how I would know it was time to die.
My youth marked it the least of my fears
but now I know, I confess with a sigh.

There is a bothering in the bones
they seem too wear-weary at the core.
The mind, too, signals aberrant tones
the time is nigh, Reaper’s at the door.

Then there is a flickering in the breast
like the flame of a candle burning low.
The signs read as one:  eternal rest.
Grudgingly, I conceive it’s time to go.

What I wondered in my shallow years
my body now exhibits in carnality grim.
Leaving behind all I love brings tears
Will anyone ask, “What became of him?”

Copyright © Paul Schneiter | Year Posted 2016

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Jan Allison Date: 8/21/2016 9:52:00 AM The only certainty in our lives is that one day we are going to die - the final stanza especially the last couplet brought a lump to my throat Paul. Very well written my friend:-) hugs Jan xx Login to Reply Paul Schneiter Date: 8/21/2016 10:18:00 AM Thank you, Jan. Your sweetly supportive comments do much to give me the courage to face a blank computer screen. hugs xxx Paul

Cheryl Hoffman Date: 8/21/2016 7:29:00 AM Nice poem about the grim reaper and the grim reality of death Paul!:) Login to Reply Paul Schneiter Date: 8/21/2016 9:51:00 AM I value and appreciate your thoughtful comment, Cheryl. Certainly, a principal purpose of poetry is to elevate the human spirit. Another function, however, is to deal with mortality honestly and unconditionally. hugs x x x