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Jan 22, 2012 · over my shoulder the god of Not-Yet looks on: Not-yet-dead, not-yet-lost, not-yet-taken. Not-yet-shattered, not-yet-sectioned, not-yet-strewn. Ample litany, sparing nothing I hate or love, not-yet-silenced, not-yet-fractured, not-yet-. Not-yet-not.
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Not Dead. Robert Graves. 1895 –. 1985. Walking through trees to cool my heat and pain, I know that David’s with me here again. All that is simple, happy, strong, he is. Caressingly I stroke. Rough bark of the friendly oak.
You’re not dead, yet like the undead, pallid skin shrinks from rays of light. Their misfortune to shrivel to dust in a shaft of sun. You shrivel without natural light. They call nursing homes heaven’s waiting rooms, the last port in the storm ravaging both bodies and minds. You are dead in the early hours of a September morning, mum,
Ain't. Dead. Yet! © by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes. Analysis (ai): This poem addresses the common human tendency to worry excessively and fear the future, emphasizing the importance of living in the present.
And he said: You would know the secret of death. But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life? The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light.
Not yet. “Not Yet” from A CERTAIN CLARITY: SELECTED POEMS by Lawrence Joseph. Copyright © 2020 by Lawrence Joseph. Used by permission of Farrar, Straus and Giroux. All Rights Reserved. Not Yet - When my father breathed unevenly, I, a child breathed unevenly, I prayed in Saint Maron Maronite Catholic Church for the world to change.
