The life begins at first breath,
The heart beats as pure urge.
The heart dies a slow death,
Diminishing down to a dirge.
Notes sound a constant drip,
Body dressed in winter cold.
Sad melody escapes earth’s lip,
Who said that we had to get old.
A multitude of emotions emerge,
Gladly do we surrender the bad.
Miseries of my old self to purge,
Still, one cannot help feeling sad.
Reluctantly do we humbly part,
With the slow death of the heart.
Very descriptive set of images here threaded through an emotion that is difficult to express without being cliche. You've shared an original way to express it. Thank you.
From minute one, we are dying, so when do we get to go through the gates cause I went through hell in the hospital and still I am here, sometimes much to my own dismay...-e-
I'm hoping and praying I can face the changes with faith in God. Many signs and results of my age are already here. I believe God can still use me at any age, and I want to praise Him whatever comes. My husband's sister is almost 103, and has a lot of dementia, but anyone who spends time with her can see the love of God within. Her repetitive talk is usually centered on God and heaven, and she can sing the words of many hymns with me, as well as a lot of the 23rd Psalm! I pray that I, too, will retain knowledge and peace of God, even if my mind is totally confused. Blessed be the Name of the Lord!
I have learned that the heart muscle has only so many beats in it. Like all muscles, it eventually atrophies and slows down.… stops.
Unlike you I do not approach this coming event with sadness. I have fought the good fight. Won some and lost some. But do not regret for the way things turned out… Or the way they will turn out eventually.
For some reason your poem suggests hanging on and hanging around, even though you have suggested also that you will be going to a much better place after this. Why not go there happily?
If you tend to believe romantic, passionate, masculine poetry is a thing of past eras, read "She Intrigues Me," and be swept away in the beautiful craft of a contemporary poet of love.
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Love ya!
Jane
Unlike you I do not approach this coming event with sadness. I have fought the good fight. Won some and lost some. But do not regret for the way things turned out… Or the way they will turn out eventually.
For some reason your poem suggests hanging on and hanging around, even though you have suggested also that you will be going to a much better place after this. Why not go there happily?
Ron