Poems Submitted by Our Readers

What shall I do? Death comes my way.
Shall it be predator? Shall I be prey?
Should I lay life at its feet?
Should I delay my heart's last beat?

There were times I had the strength,
To stand, defy and fight at length
The clasp of Death's cold clammy hands-
Reverse the flow of time, its sands.

At other times when Death was near,
I'd jump with fright and run in fear
Away from what I feared the most,
The father, Son and Holy Ghost.

The years my soul was most perverse
I longed to ride behind the hearse
To my final resting place
And peer at last at Death's cold face.

I find it strange that though not old
I ponder much eternal cold.
Perhaps soon in truth I'll say,
"I see Death. It comes my way."


Leopold