‘Without so much as a by your leave’

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‘Without so much as a by your leave’

 

I called for death, but death just passed me by

and as he did he looked me in the eye

“I don’t have time to stop and chat”

with that, he waived his scythe, and that was that.

 

No interest in me he had, just left me feeling alone and sad

to ponder on my fate and plight as he drifted off into the night

Come back, come back I earnestly cried

“No,” said death, “It's not your time to die”

 

His words echoed around my hall

As I watched him pass clean through the wall

Followed by rustling through the trees

The Reaper was gone...

                        ‘Without so much as a by your leave’

 

Po

(For Don)

https://www.writeoutloud.net/public/blogentry.php?blogentryid=102527

Grim ReaperPo

◄ The End

The Mad Hatter's Tea Party ►

Comments

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poemagraphic

Thu 21st May 2020 10:18

Mocosy and Damon, I am pleased you dropped in. Thank you both for your likes.

Po

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poemagraphic

Wed 20th May 2020 10:13

Hi Monica

Firstly thank you kindly for dropping in
I have watched you bloom in showcasing
your poetic input is so nice
if here it is a tad quiesce.

Po

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Don Matthews

Wed 20th May 2020 10:03

Jeez Po. No chess offer? What a cad. Like Jon I'm devastated

See, you should've gentled him in with a cup of tea....

😛

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poemagraphic

Wed 20th May 2020 09:54

Thank you, Jon, my silent friend
You are one more I can augend
The numbers growing one by one
hopefully, more before this is done

I am reminded of those fiddle lyrics
where the devil challenged, loses satiric
Challenging me to a game of chess
and lose again and my behest...
Would relegate him to those sterile regions
of ‘metempirics’

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Jon Stainsby

Wed 20th May 2020 09:21

Sounds awful, Po.

He didn't even offer a game of chess?

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poemagraphic

Tue 19th May 2020 07:39

Hi Don

What a tea party that would be.

I would invite the vicar along just for the fun of it.

..."more tea vicar".

I wonder if the reaper drinks tea?

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poemagraphic

Tue 19th May 2020 07:35

Mortimer, Glad you you dropped in.

I contracted a very virulent virus last April and had to be hospitalized. Placed in confinement and barrier nursed for five days. Not one single specialist (and several came to see me) knew what my predicament was or indeed what to do about it.

One moment I was literally at death's door and a week later discharged. I felt so ill, death would have been a happy release.

This current pandemic brings it back to mind. I have always enjoyed writing poetry about death and dying. I would say that it probably features in the majority of my musings in some way shape or form.

This was a kind of humourous look in the face of death. I have had several close calls with the reaper over my lifetime...
Indeed I have been snatched back from the brink on three or four occasions.

Someone out there is certainly looking after me!
Po

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poemagraphic

Tue 19th May 2020 07:13

Mocosy, thanks for your like.
Po

MortimerBlooming

Tue 19th May 2020 05:10

It is not your time yet so do not grieve
In yourself you just got to believe

Though easier said than done
But once accomplished and mastered
There are many demons in this society that you will shun

Death believes now is not your time
Do not turn die when breathing learn to realize
The worth of your soul, the worth of your rhymes
And maybe next time you meet death,
will not be as slave begging but a conqueror ferociously alive!

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Don Matthews

Tue 19th May 2020 00:01

What a bugger....Some people have no heart....Perhaps you should have offered him a cup of tea?

😛

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poemagraphic

Mon 18th May 2020 22:59

Hi Damon

Thanks for your like.

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poemagraphic

Mon 18th May 2020 22:49

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