Skip to main content

Moody Days


I Wonder

When it is my turn to die,
Will I ponder on my days afar?
Will I yearn for your arms and cry?

When it is my turn to die,
Will I despair in a lonely chill?
Will I hold your hands in mine?

When it is my turn to die,
Will I close my eyes and sigh?
Will lost loved ones linger on the other side?

Ray de Bono
18.07.07

Comments

Anonymous said…
I like this poem. Very deep. Its full of questions that makes everyone think, yet all questions have to remain unanswered. This is our destiny. No body knows exactly the exact remaining 'living' days..

Only God have these answers and its only in him that we shall find our fulfillment.

Keep it up Ray.

Anton
10:09 AM PDT
Evan Camilleri said…
hmmm...

No time to die, too many things to do!
1:18 AM PDT
Anonymous said…
do you see any bright things around you?
12:00 AM PDT
Anonymous said…
do you see any bright things around you?
12:01 AM PDT
Xa said…
Hekk hu... that's life and the bitter reality that we have to somehow come face to face with one day.

Cha
6:08 AM PST
Maria Lewis said…
Very deep and so well expressed thoughts...

A wise German dramatist (Bertolt Brechtonce) once said 'Do not fear death so much, but rather the inadequate life.' So if your life is fulfilled and adequate, and death cathes you off guard, do not fear, for this earthly ending is only the start of a new heavenly beginning....
11:00 PM PDT
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Elusive, lost Love

Play this music whilst reading it… http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0HCvyJvqpqY&eurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww%2Efacebook%2Ecom%2Fpages%2FAttard%2DMalta%2FDmaxtv%2F14281068665%3Fref%3Ds&feature=player_embedded I am happy Thrilled So full of life Yet inept And so bizarre in my fetish muse That dictates my testosterone driven vibe In this chess game In the dark… She left Killed the warmth That engulfed my abyss Setting alight Wrath so hellish …at the Maker’s standalone whims My Useless howling In the wind… Tear drenched eyes Alone, yet in a crowd of pseudo-passion Like flashes In the dark Not even a twinkling candle Just a puff of light Micro seconds Quick-and-go.. Chilled heart In gay hilarity White wine thrash Dripping Lousy mornings… How many more Yet to come? Pathetic pretentious Scribbles of mine… Ray de Bono Monday, July 20, 2009
Post a Comment
Read more

Another mask, anyone?

POEM Our precious soil, betrays our innocence How many more Must perish Souring over our barren land? Undeserving of so precious Blood We are! Of so graceful Creatures ...they adorn our skies and cry their last desperate sorrows for the bigotry of its inhabitants and their bizarre gods of gore and limestone and euro orgies of smoky, petrified incense as they kneel in front of HE whom they claim to adore. How many more Must perish Souring over our barren land? As the exchequer squambles over another excuse With his peers He jokes over how great he is In his infinite wisdom And his children look for A morrow where feathers are Nothing but Exhibits in classroom books Hailing from days gone by... And deep within each soil granule So miniscule, insignificant Lies the blood of them... The souring angels, Up above... Ray de Bono 9th March 2010 He/she who wants to understand, let him/her understand... ...........................................
Post a Comment
Read more

Ode to Hypocrisy

I stood there and gasped Thinking I know That what I hear See and feel Is anything but factual Words targeted solely at pleasing me for peace sake I stared at the mirror And heard the clatter and wind The chiming of church bells And the howling swears of idle street hawkers selling veggies and kitchen ware with their pseudo- lucky charms And blessed virgins adorning their vans... But I see no man around No woman... I say I am alone All is good All is fine And the smoky sky And putrefying air Is fine As long as we both Say so All is fine. Ray de Bono Thursday, 04 March 2010
Post a Comment
Read more