POEM
On the day that I die
will the world end or
just me?
If I write a poem
will it die with me
or will it stay on
and let the world know
that I was here
and wrote this poem
that outlived me?
POEM
On the day that I die
will the world end or
just me?
If I write a poem
will it die with me
or will it stay on
and let the world know
that I was here
and wrote this poem
that outlived me?
Watch Out! My Shadow’s on the loose
with beaked visage, dressed in puce.
He’s up to no good, I can tell
trailing his embers straight from hell.
Rude, uncouth, he throws a fit,
replacing niceness with a snit.
He gets like that from time to time,
just when my life is too sublime.
They say that I should chat with him–
admit he springs from my own whim.
But what if he enlists me too
and I become a scary shrew?
What’s worse they say that he’s a she–
“if I’m a she then he’s like me!”
No way! I know that it’s a him.
Thinking female would be too grim.
I never thought that this offender
would ever be a transgender!
Oh heck, I’ll claim him for my own,
despite bad seeds that it has sown.
If he is me then I can stay
his acting out this very day!
I’ll say not he or she but we
and end this Shadow fricasee.
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