Dinner Yesterday and my Mussels Poem
Mussels. Tomato, Okra.
My death poem. (Tongue in Cheek) It is entitled “Feed me Mussels”.
Tip of the hat to Dylan Thomas
“Rage not against the dying of the light
But welcome it.
Welcome it with bliss, for such is this:
We all must meet this fateful tryst,
At ends of lives both brief and long
With peace, with joy, and with a song.
The song I sing is not of faith,
nor heaven, nor hell beyond the grave.
For hell’s not there, and heaven’s a myth.
We are but atoms finely made,
Destined for dust – not a parade
of angels, demons, heaven or hell.
So when I’m dying grant my wish,
for mussels plump – served in a dish
with butter, garlic: sweet shell fish.
Fill every orifice with these,
the ocean’s gift for me to please.
Thus shall I die without regret,
Sated with mussels, (better yet
than prayer or bread or wine).
Plumped up with mussels, I’ll be fine
for burial in the foaming brine
“Rage not against the dying of the light
But welcome it.
Welcome it with bliss, for such is this:
We all must meet this fateful tryst,
At ends of lives both brief and long
With peace, with joy, and with a song.
The song I sing is not of faith,
nor heaven, nor hell beyond the grave.
For hell’s not there, and heaven’s a myth.
We are but atoms finely made,
Destined for dust – not a parade
of angels, demons, heaven or hell.
So when I’m dying grant my wish,
for mussels plump – served in a dish
with butter, garlic: sweet shell fish.
Fill every orifice with these,
the ocean’s gift for me to please.
Thus shall I die without regret,
Sated with mussels, (better yet
than prayer or bread or wine).
Plumped up with mussels, I’ll be fine
for burial in the foaming brine
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