Thread: The End is Never too Near

I want to die
sans fanfare
with eyes asleep
and too weary to weep.
In an instant
from dark to light.

No wake nor burial
just me alone
(as I was in life)
in a pine box plain
purified by flame
sooty remains sprinkled
into an inconspicuous
pickle jar
(not B & G, only Claussen will do)
with label removed
so as not to obstruct my view
as I watch my kids
and blow my lid
whenever occasion
calls for it.

I want to die
sans fanfare
with eyes asleep
and too weary to weep.
In an instant
from dark to light.

No wake nor burial
just me alone
(as I was in life)
in a pine box plain
purified by flame
sooty remains sprinkled
into an inconspicuous
pickle jar
(never B & G, only Claussen will do)
with label removed
so as not to obstruct my view
as I watch my kids
and blow my lid
whenever occasion
calls for it.

Mom's on a rampage
go get the Dustbuster
but make sure you empty her
back into her briny abode.


Are You listening God?
Mistakes are not something
that You make
but flinging me into reverse
as I got to the Gates
and stuffing me back inside
this body I hate
isn't on the same scale
as the birth of the earth
and I know that You see
what he does to me.
So I humbly plead for mercy.

I know the dole
is never more
than one can take
but I've had my share
and I just can't bear
another curve thrown
by fickle fate.
I'm four years past
my expiration date
isn't it time I shed
my rancid wrapping
and make my way home?

The decision is Yours alone
I'd never book passage
on my own
but just this once
can you throw this dog
a beautiful bone?
Are You listening God?
Mistakes are not something
that You make
but flinging me into reverse
as I got to the gates
and stuffing me back inside
this body I hate
isn't on the same scale
as the birth of the earth
and I know that You see
what he does to me.
So I humbly plead for mercy.

I know the dole
is never more
than one can take
but I've had my share
and I just can't bear
another curve thrown
by fickle fate.
I'm four years past
my expiration date
isn't it time I shed
my rancid wrapping
and make my way home?

The decision is Yours alone
I'd never book passage
on my own
but just this once
can you throw this dog
a beautiful bone?

I like this. I like the colloquial feel of the dustbuster aside, thought I'd italicize it as a landmark to the navigation of the whole. "You are here -- after and while"

I think it would be improved if you used the dog/god thing a bit more, but I like wordplay so of course that would seem better than it probably is. Also, and I promise this is it...if you're having to mention you're talking to God, introduce him sooner as he's a major character.

I really liked this very accessible piece, Lisa -

There was some great sonorous wordsmithing in stanza two - plain, flame, remains...

The "blow my lid" bit was great, and leading into the next stanza with "Mom's on a rampage, go get the Dustbuster" was quite humorous.

Then it suddenly becomes serious, and this is indeed serious stuff - there was an unspoken "all joking aside" sense there, going on with your conversation with God - the expressions of frustration were effective, the word choices were perfect.

I work with the aged and infirmed, and so I naturally thought of them: frailty, the sense of helpless waiting for death to come - your piece paints all this very vividly - my prayers are with you.

---todd

Lisa, I haven't been reading poetry much lately but I did read this. I can't believe what an incredibly strong poet you are. Somehow you have the ability to use words tough as sledgehammers and also deft as tiny hex tools while still putting a laugh in the middle. You're an amazing person and a writer who should be recognized for what you do. You said you weren't sure if you should have posted this piece but you emphatically should. It shows a passion and transparency that is missing in the majority of writing as a whole.

This poem was for me, a bitter pill to swallow...Of course it is so very well written... the thin veneer of humor does little --in my opinion--to off set the melancholy message. At times I felt a lot of subtle anger at the plight of the writer,trapped by circumstances beyond control. Courage also was evident in the skillful way the subject matter was handled .Still--I found this disturbing on many levels ....You sure know how to leave your reader emotionally connected to you. your prowess with your pen is at times--something to fear...Peace...Jul

I want to die
sans fanfare
with eyes asleep
and too weary to weep.
In an instant
from dark to light.

Wonderful and strong opening here, Lisa. I absolutely love this one and can only agree and second all the other's comments on your prowess with a pen ( or keyboard ). Bravo, sweetie!

Lisa, after reading this poem last night I couldn’t shake it. I tried to define the atmosphere of this piece. The words Desperation and Hopelessness boxed with each other for awhile then I was eventually was in the ring with Hopelessness as Desperation has the connotation of rashness.

With hopelessness you to try to find ground where non seems to exist. And this is what you powerfully portrayed in you poem.

It had been suggested that you introduce God in the beginning but I believe you had already done this, though abstractly, in the first stanza.

"I want to die
sans fanfare
with eyes asleep
and too weary to weep.
In an instant
from dark to light"

I interpret the “light” as being Heaven.


"No wake nor burial
just me alone
(as I was in life)
in a pine box plain
purified by flame
sooty remains sprinkled
into an inconspicuous
pickle jar
(not B & G, only Claussen will do)

I would think the attempt to sprinkle sooty remains into a pickle jar would make for quite a mess!

(not B & G, only Claussen will do)

I do agree that the parenthetical humor doesn’t work in this instance. You always manage to fit it into your work just brilliantly but here it undermines the very tragic.

this body I hate
isn't on the same scale
as the birth of the earth
and I know that You see
what he does to me.

I might suggest that you write for more affect “isn’t on the same scale as “my” birth to this earth”

And then the biggie.

and I know that You see
what he does to me.

Knowing enough of you’re situation, I dare suggest that you somehow qualify who“he” is, as painful as this might be. This person I could hardly put in the category of a human being.( I’m now outside of critique: I’m just so angry with what you suffer upon suffering)

I'd never book passage
on my own
but just this once
can you throw this dog
a beautiful bone?


So we know that despite a profound hollowness, the ending of it all is not entertained.

“can you throw this dog
a beautiful bone?”

Exquisite ending and this truly had me near tears. My God, what you do to me!

We’ve all heard that God gives us nothing on our plate that we can’t handle.

My dear friend, I fear He’s given you a platter. But only because He knows you’re one of the few who has phenomenal strength, butting up against the unbearable.

There have been times where hopelessness has steered me towards the coward's way. If the future should be relentless in this regard, I can always reflect on this poem. So, with your permission, I would like to print it out to place amongst the poems of the professionals who save me when I go over them, needing identification which brings me solace.

When we do get “there” we must save each other a seat at the celestial banquet table. If not, I insist that place cards be switched!

With love and respect, Laurie

Love it! My favorite lines: "I'm four years past my expiration date" and "I'd never book passage on my own."
Being an old lady nearing the expiration date myself, I wonder how younger readers see poems written from our point of view. How much can they "get it" I wonder.

THis is very deep. I love the way you write, you are a polished poet.