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?
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 Deft words on Darkness Nice Poems on Death Fresh Life* Poems
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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.
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