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Ed Matlack

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Featured Book
The Stolen Baby
by Gwen Madoc

Swansea 1853 The Roxton Fair comes to the backwater village of Cwmrhyddin Cross and brings with it the illegal bare-knuckle boxing booth. Death follows in its wake. ..  
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For those of us who don’t play with the band…
by Ed Matlack
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Recent poems by Ed Matlack
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           >> View all 5,727

Not sure from whence this one did come but it is purely ficional or is it...?


He died like he did live,

Interestingly enough on the same day he was born,

Not a minute late,

On the same date,

After two hundred years of life he was worn…

 

His life started out like any other,

Father, sisters, brothers and a loving mother,

As a child he did excel in his studies,

Never missed school, never sick a day,

Raised in religious freedom,

He knew God & worshiped him in his own way…

 

He finished college at fourteen,

Working for the government for a time,

He developed vaccines for all manner of ailment,

When he reached his adulthood,

He felt he needed more, so he left his employment…

 

The next hundred years a gumbo of experiences,

Married, children of his own, then grandchildren,

He did not thrive, he was not rich nor was he poor,

His life went on like any other human,

He once owned and operated a store,

For him it was a dream fulfilled…

 

He watched through life,

Of his friends & family dying before him,

Why he lived so long he never knew,

He didn’t exercise, drank, & for a short time even smoked,

He did though regularly exercise his brain,

Though life was a constant drain…

 

Late in his life he was awarded a Nobel prize,

He felt himself unworthy & refused,

He was a plain man, one of course of great intellect,

But he still did not want applause,

He never enjoyed being in the limelight,

Of this his whole life he did fight…

 

When his time finally came,

He took it like all intelligent men do,

With a calm, cool demeanor,

After he moved on, he was forgotten,

He had no family left, nor friends,

He did however leave many quotes,

And books written by his own hand,

For those of us who don’t play with the band…

 

 

 

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Reviewed by Annabel Sheila 2/20/2012
My goodness!!!!! This is fab, Ed!

Anna
Reviewed by Kate Burnside 2/19/2012
A very complementary piece to your picture which really makes us think "Actually, yeah... what IS the meaning of life if ultimately there is so little to show for it at the end of the day?" Just goes to show that our life only means what it means to others, so the lesson is, perhaps, to make it count by investing life, love and goodness where we can. I read on a poster yesterday: " Take care of Goodness and Truth and Beauty will take care of itself". Like it! :)) xx
Reviewed by Debby & Gordon Rosenberg 2/18/2012
you should let these out more often.
Reviewed by jude forese 2/18/2012
what have you been storing your words?
Reviewed by John Coppolella 2/18/2012
A spiraling epitaph to being ordonatically blessed.
Reviewed by JASMIN HORST SEILER 2/18/2012
Did you mix your grass with something, I mean, you got to be kidden right, you kept us in the dark all this time, and now, pow. Hugs!
Reviewed by larry linville 2/18/2012
I've been away and this poem welcomed me back warmly.
Reviewed by Paul Berube 2/18/2012
Interesting indeed, Ed. Very well done.
Reviewed by Richard King 2/18/2012
Interesting and delightfully different from that which I have come to expect. Dick
Reviewed by Tom Hyland 2/18/2012
ED ... THIS REMINDED ME OF 'THE UNKNOWN CITIZEN'

I AM POSTING ON IT ... MOMENTARILY ...
Reviewed by m j hollingshead 2/18/2012
thought provoking read

m
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton 2/18/2012
This is so alien compared to what you normally write it is staggering.
Reviewed by Patrick Granfors 2/18/2012
I knew you've been lying about your age. Pretty convincing too. cuz p
Reviewed by William Bonilla 2/18/2012
Awesome write ED
your title is kind of catchy
not what I had in mind I be reading
Excellent work Brother........
Peace be with you

William
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