Tag Archives: the grim reaper

I Know A Young Lady Named Beth

I know a young lady named Beth
Who refuses to pause for breath.
On meeting The dreaded Grim Reaper
On the London to Glasgow sleeper,
She bored the poor Reaper to death

How Convenient To Have A Graveyard So Close To My Home

How convenient to have a graveyard
So close to my home.
‘Twill not be hard
As, when I die
There will not be far to go
For my bones
But, you know
The place has remained undisturbed
By burials for many a year.
I am perturbed
And shed a tear
As I do not know
Where I shall go
When I die.

Perhaps my ashes will, in a pub find a place
And the drinker, with his or her flushed face
Will look at me and say,
“He used to drink this way.
Another beer
Here barman, for I feel suddenly queer
And must drink
Else I shall think
On dust
And he, who has into the grave been thrust!”.

I dislike
The idea of fire
And my desire
Is for burial. Yet the night
Will come down all the same
So why should I care
Whether I am consumed by flame
Or end up underground?
For the truth profound
Is that I will not be there
To know or care.

The Reaper of Grain

I am rested today.
I shall stay that way,
Getting plenty of sleep
But, sooner or later
This prater
Will, his toil
Cease, and find peace
In nature’s good soil,
For I maintain
That none can foil
The reaper of grain.

Don’t Say The “D” Word

We say
“He passed away”.
The “d” word
Is often
Not heard.

He is in his coffin
So why this absurd
Of the “d” word?

Does the Reaper, standing, unnoticed, near
Smile at our denial
That you and I
Shall die?

Larkin took refuge in drink
But, at dawn did think
On death
And felt bereft.

I have now said
The word we dread
To voice.

We have a choice
Over what words are said
But we are nonetheless, dead
In the end
My friend.

When A Very Old Man Of Stroud

When a very old man of Stroud
Said, “death be not proud”,
Death replied, “you know,
We must together go,
And leave this earthly crowd”.


For the blank
Of the fish tank,
the shark
Who dwelt in the dark
He has had his wish
And eaten all the fish,
But can no longer glare
As consuming his source of food
The reaper stark
Did intrude
And made the shark
His food …

When I Go

When I go will it be in a darkened room
With cloying perfume
Hanging like a stark
question mark,
In the unmoved air?

I shall beware
The unlit stair
For I may go
Lest I tread with care.

Will I leave at dawn
With only the birds to mourn?
Or perchance it will be among friends
Who, seeing my end
Will say
“Blast. A blaggard to the last!
He failed to pay, his bill ere he went away”!

I know not the day
But pray
I go with conscience clear,
Without fear
And with those to me dear
Standing near.

The Intruder

At home
I sensed an intruder in my hall.
My mouth was dry
And I could not call
Out for help.

For his throat I felt
And smelt
A stench as of a thing long since deceased.
All grappling ceased
And through my fear
I recognised death
Standing near.

The above poem is based on a dream I dreamed several days ago. While dreaming, I was conscious of a profound sense of fear, heightened by the terrible stench emminating from the intruder in my home. However it was only on awakening that I recognised the presence as that of the angel of death.