Best Azrael Poems
When Azrael* comes knocking, it won’t be with bony fists,
I believe, he’ll be a Doctor, with a cure,
Or a Maiden with her posies, a Knight jousting in the lists,
Or a gently whistling, mournful Troubadour.
When my time has come for leaving, I believe, I’ll punch him out,
Though I’ll break my hand in doing it, I’m sure
Or he’ll duck the blow and throw me o’er his shoulder like some lout
And I’ll have to go with him to Evermore.
I suppose he’s used to fearsome images, limned in the mind,
Where spectres, spooks and ghouls widely endure
But I think he’s just a jailer, come to open (and be kind)
The way out of a cage that serves, no more.
So, when he brings his medicine, I think I’ll swallow it,
And thank him for the friends he’s brought with him
I don’t believe he’ll be a jolly soul, although I wit
He’ll stroke my bald head, turn the lights to dim…
Or, when she shows me posies, with a certain tranquil air,
I deeply will inhale, nod, go to sleep,
And let her cool my hot brow with a hand that isn’t there,
Give thanks, she’s eased the passage I must keep.
Or, when he boldly rides at me, sharp angle to his spear,
I’ll bellow out a challenge, DING! his helm,
And keep my seat, take point through shield, ride at him without fear,
And know my lady watches o’er the realm.
Or, lastly, when he whistles a low tune that stills my heart,
I’ll join in, softly sing along with him,
As he plucks his sombre lute strings I will hum the descant part
And slowly fade away, heart in the trim.
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*Azrael – in Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s poem of the same name, the Angel of Death
2/28/2019
What does it mean, when the Sand gets stuck?
(Gets stuck in the Hourglass)
What does it mean about time?
What does it mean about space?
Are we given a Respite?
(I meant, ‘was I?’)
Does this mean that all callow cruelty has been redeemed?
Resourcefulness in God has won me over?
Right Use of every tibbet (tidbit) that was unspoken
Is to come?
… I do not know, I do not know, I do not know…
And yet, I climb, as if my Life depends each step, on climbing
(And somehow, I feel sure, that I will fall!)
And yet, I crazy-climb, as if my pictured Life is useless without climbing
(Will I, someday, eventually, reach a wall?)
For TIME to STOP, man, that’s a gift worth having!
It means, you haven’t left me, though you died,
It means, a breath is open for my salving,
Before another breath comes, and the Tide
Comes, bruising
All my sand-castles, and halves of dreams, and hopes
And Azrael* has got me on the ropes…
But, he’s my friend…
He’ll only come to me, when my date’s Due
And though I run from him, still at the End,
He’ll gently come and take me on to You.
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2/18/2019
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*Azrael – in Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s poem of the same name, the Angel of Death
(For when you are a man.)
To my third child and second son,
You may be the most inquisitive one.
To answer the greatest of all concerns—
I love you more than fire burns.
I do the best with what I find—
I’m raising you from within my mind.
So—
In the interest of scathing reviews of my life
I strongly advise you consider the source,
I’ve invested my time in the bruises of right—
Not in the bowels of fraudulent lords.
I’ve engaged their games and dubious course—
I refuse to be caged in their subtle wards.
This world in which we were sworn to be born
May be a blessing or a miserable curse,
Depending on wherever you treaded before—
For me, my last mistake was worse.
Reliving a level of hell I traversed—
Lives ago in this crude universe.
Formerly dissected, analyzed and perfected
My last experiment was compromised and infected,
Lives are easier when they’re not recollected—
But only you will know the level you’ve selected.
Just remember you were never, not once, neglected—
I gave you a name— and it was rejected.
However—
If you decide to use half the mind I’ve planted
And not take this stride I’ve assigned for granted,
I’ll expect to see you someday so candid—
Unexpected, exhausted and stranded.
And whilst you stand there so disenchanted—
I’ll explain the deranged affair you’ve been handed.
But—
If I should die
Before you’ve the chance,
You shan’t recant
To rearrange your plans—
To figure me out
And frame your stance,
I’ve left you my life
To decode in your hands.
While fitful, impetuous, tears force to submissive dirge
an enshrouded grey shadow within mine afflicted heart.
In ghastly, pallid emptiness; beguiling Azrael does cajoles.
"Ah, Tis only, immolation that can enchant and subdue Azrael."
2/19/2020
O son of the morning,
You have come in the dark hour,
The darkness have drenched my strengths,
And, I am as handicap as the lames on lonely paths.
O cold Angel,
You have come with vigor,
I pray you this once,
If you do not know my father's love,
Do not touch my soul.
O light of the darkness,
My days are young,
Call 105 years to come.
Most closest to death
When speaking in one last breath.
I am in his eyes,
As my entire being dies,
He takes me to the heavens.