The Nurturing Knife

The Nurturing Knife short poem

After my final curtain call
when the stage lights dim,
what will life hold to see,
at the end of my show
when the ink has dried,
what will become of me?

Clutching crumbling pen
between trembling fingers
of a shaky, uncertain hand,
is that really my end;
no more words to impart
or silent solace to send?

Feel the clutching claws
of the Reaper’s raven,
so near, so near!
Have I naught to behold
but this cold dark
and deep dread fear?

Fading memories
of each painful slice
of a tearful, tormented life,
a world so cold; devoid of light,
but the mocking glint of
the nurturing knife?

Written on 29th January 2015
Revised 11th November 2015

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ALL POEMS ©2015 DARREN SCANLON. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. * Words and music have always played a major role in my life. A life without being able to enjoy music and express in words would be, for me, empty and cold.I have been writing since age 16, some 30+ years now but have only recently started publishing my works. Since doing so in Dec 2013, I have published 4 novels and 5 volumes of poetry, (available on Amazon.co.uk).My words are my life. If they touch you in any way, if you are able to take something from them, then my work has achieved its goal and I am a happy man.Welcome to my world. Darren.
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Nurturing Lungs

Nurturing Lungs short poem

A spoonful of sugar melts into his tea And how perfectly made they are My nurturing soul is utterly satisfied While his lungs let go of the tar “If that balloon pops, I shall cry I already feel just like