General Poetry posted October 24, 2022 Chapters: --4- -3... 


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A chapter in the book Deconstructing the Greats

That Fateful Day

by Heather Knight

He tapped me on the shoulder
While I was busy scribbling.
I turned around and saw an empty space,
I didn't want to see.

He whispered in my ear
While I was planting tulips,
My hair danced with the breeze,
And I pretended not to hear.

He held my hand--
This time I followed.
He said he meant me no harm.
He told me I still had
A few more tomorrows.

So I kept on living,
I forgot all about Death,
I enjoyed some sunny days
While darkness stayed cloaked in dread.

Then came a December morning,
My hair was white and sparse.
I was alone in my garden,
He took me by surprise.

I wasn't afraid, just curious,
So I looked Him in the eye.
'Is it time?' I asked.
He didn't talk, just nodded,
And the cold intensified.

When I was alive,
I wasted many an hour, many a day
Wishing for Immortality.
Now, from my vantage point up here,
I look at those I loved,
At my puppy and my bulbs,
My forgotten desk,
My unfinished work ...
And I always wonder the same:
Why didn't I grab Time by its wings?
Why didn't I say 'I love you' more often?
Why didn't I smile every day
While I could still touch the soil?



Recognized


The poem above was inspired by one of Emily Dickinson's most famous works (please don't compare me to her when you review, I'm begging you):

Because I Could not Stop for Death (479)
Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

Because I could not stop for Death
He kindly stopped for me
The Carriage held but just Ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove
He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility

We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess in the Ring
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain
We passed the Setting Sun

Or rather He passed us
The Dews drew quivering and chill
For only Gossamer, my Gown
My Tippet only Tulle

We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground
The Roof was scarcely visible
The Cornice in the Ground

Since then tis Centuries and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses Heads
Were toward Eternity

Below you can listen to a great version of the poem, see the trailer of the TV series Dickinson and also watch a very interesting documentary about her. Enjoy!






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