Array ( [sid] => 179204 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => One More Breath [time] => 2014-09-01 12:23:39 [hometext] => A few poms lately on this...I am in good health (as far as I know). I feel the chill wind of mortality of late. [bodytext] =>




I knew a man who said “No chemo” till the pain came-
That wall, that black nothing drew near
and it became “Nothing ventured, nothing gained”,
Resolve vanished in the fear.

Where and when is that line drawn, and perhaps rescinded
(Just one more dawn!)
One more hug one more kiss
this dear life, one more breath.
And yet one more.

Is the oxygen bottle that first hiss and whisper of
dwindling years?
That very first slide,
the marble chute to the abyss?
Or is it pills, plethorally categorized
to day, to hour?
How does one know when to grab (and throw) the towel?

'Quality of life'...ahhh...to me, that I should
walk, and feel, and touch and taste and know my wife
my son myself, that I should see.
It will be interesting, this question's answer-
what I do when the wall draws near
and I fear the night without dawn.
It's easy now, (I can see and feel and know)
but how precious to me is that one more breath?

The indignity of tubes and bedpans and paid caretakers
so I may eek another breath...
Give me the woods, feet, that I may see my death.
[comments] => 2 [counter] => 241 [topic] => 63 [informant] => invierno [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => hbadday ) Your Poetry Dot Com - One More Breath


One More Breath
Date: Monday, 1st September 2014 @ 12:23:39 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: invierno





I knew a man who said “No chemo” till the pain came-
That wall, that black nothing drew near
and it became “Nothing ventured, nothing gained”,
Resolve vanished in the fear.

Where and when is that line drawn, and perhaps rescinded
(Just one more dawn!)
One more hug one more kiss
this dear life, one more breath.
And yet one more.

Is the oxygen bottle that first hiss and whisper of
dwindling years?
That very first slide,
the marble chute to the abyss?
Or is it pills, plethorally categorized
to day, to hour?
How does one know when to grab (and throw) the towel?

'Quality of life'...ahhh...to me, that I should
walk, and feel, and touch and taste and know my wife
my son myself, that I should see.
It will be interesting, this question's answer-
what I do when the wall draws near
and I fear the night without dawn.
It's easy now, (I can see and feel and know)
but how precious to me is that one more breath?

The indignity of tubes and bedpans and paid caretakers
so I may eek another breath...
Give me the woods, feet, that I may see my death.


This poem is Copyright © invierno


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