Along with stories, I have for most of my life, enjoyed writing poetry. Some ok, some bad, some terrible, and once in a long while, a winner. You be the judge, and please leave constructive feed back.

Thursday, May 25, 2017

The Grim Reaper and Me

The Grim Reaper and Me

The Grim Reaper is after me.
He's constantly on my heels.
I live just past his bony reach.
His cold breath I can feel.
 
His one desire concerning me
Is to finally grasp my flesh.
His only job is to send me home
And give me eternal rest.
 
He began his chase one fateful night
In nineteen sixty five.
When I was born into this world
And stepped into this life.
 
In childhood years he nearly won
With calls as close as a shave,
But I slipped his bonds and carried on
And dodged that cold cold grave.
 
I heard him laugh when I took a fall
one bright hot summer day.
He thought he had me when I hit the ground
But I got up and walked away.
 
He sent some bees, a thousand or two
That chased me and took me down.
In mortal pain and swollen bad
I made it and I'm still around.
 
He almost got me with a loaded gun
When I fell, the gun hit and fired,
Right over my head and hit some rock
And it missed me as thin as a wire.
 
I grew into a healthy man
But he never left me alone.
He wants to stop me in my tracks
And break my sturdy bones.
 
On a cliff in Europe, I climbed some rocks
So high it would take your breath,
'til one gave way and I started to fall
To a distant rocky death.
 
But one lone twig from a gnarly bush
Projected where I could see.
I grasped at it and got a hold
And the Reaper didn't get me.
 
On and on he follows me
Just as he follows you.
And one final day he'll have his way
And my life will be through.
 
Until that day I intend to live,
For I know that I must die,
And I intend to make the best
Of every moment of life.
 
The Grim Reaper is after me
He's constantly on my heels.
I live just past his bony reach
His cold breath I can feel.
 

(c) May 25, 2017 James L. Frady