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Death's Invitation (Free verse) by eliastemplar I cheated death today
I stole one second, one inch,
and one degree from him.
In the blink of an eye
his hand was empty
and I still breathed.
When the fear had passed
and the smoke had cleared
I returned to his broken trap.
There on the ground
lay a copper coin
and I stole this too.
I put it on a chain
around my neck.
This way I'm sure
I'll never forget.
Up the ladder:
You're passionate
Down the ladder:
Wake Up
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 4.6666665
Posted: October 6, 2004 6:55 AM PDT; Last modified: October 6, 2004 10:29 AM PDTWeighted score: 4.9602656 Overall Rank: 8585 Comments:
[9]
Dovina @ 204.250.12.246
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6-Oct-04/10:04 AM
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Reply
I have a letter that might as well be around my neck reminding of a narrow escape, and in a bargain with the grim reaper, there's the stones of a crumbled foundation accross a wooded path. Thanks for the reminder.
[n/a]
eliastemplar @ 81.23.201.22
> Dovina
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6-Oct-04/10:15 AM
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Reply
It's strange, I will embark on another mission tomorrow, and it seems it will lead me down the very same isolated path that I wrote this poem about. If death is waiting there again, hopefully he will see my coin as a ward and not a challenge.
[9]
Dovina @ 204.250.12.246
> eliastemplar
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6-Oct-04/10:31 AM
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May he see your coin as a shield reflecting any arrow he might aim, and Afganistan as a place that's already taken too much. If I were in charge, they would send middle-aged women like me to war and spare the young folks.
Passed not past. And 'I returned to his broken trap' I had no idea you even came from there or for that matter what form this broken trap showed itself in. And do you really need a coin to remind you that you nearly died.
Thankyou for correcting my typo. As for the coin, I find reminders useful in a combat zone. Sometimes I find myself drinking tea or breaking bread with Afghani village elders. In the battle to win hearts and minds I've even caught myself sharing familly photos and stories of home. The danger lies in forgetting that these people or perhaps their neighbors are plotting to kill you. Even when I am home enjoying a beer and a game of billiards it's good to be reminded not to take life for granted.
I love the expression "the battle to win hearts and minds". It's such an ace manly way to describe breaking the traditional melon in the company of old men so sexually overwrought (from oppressing all their women into nonexistence) that casually resting a hand on your thigh while insisting on calling you "Habeebi" (or whatever the Farsi equivalent is) is the closest they've come to orgasm since the Taliban outlawed men's undergarments. That, and it's just a fucking hilarious thing to say, whatever the situation.
PS-The people here (AND their neighbors) are constantly plotting to feed me goat-meat doused liberally with goat-yoghurt (skinned goat-head included). And today on the bus, a kid in high-school plotted for almost a half-hour to say "Hello, what's your name?" in English, though I happened to be having a conversation in Arabic with the bus driver at the time. Weird how different things are for us, huh? Sincerely, zodiac Karak, Jordan
I've spent time in a teargas chamber before. At some point you accept that you won't be able to hold your breath long enough, and you hate yourself for breathing.
Great poem needs more... something?!?!?!?!
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