Nine Lives

If you could have the cat's nine lives, would you?
To live not fearing death, not once, not twice,
but eight times, confident of landing on
your feet, and walking off to speak of it.

Would life be better lived having been lived
and having faced the biking accident,
the bungee rope snapping, the heart’s big break,
the bite, the bed, the bomb, the bone, the bug?

And what is death if it entails no end?
Nine lives means nine beginnings—not nine ends—
nine middles cramped with pain or yawned to sleep,
and insufficient training at bravery
to face with whip and rod the quiet cough
as green-eyed death stalks you on velvety paws.

Comments

pinoyhapa said…
Ihave traveled the firghtening road between life and death. Your poetry is reminiscent of Emily Dickinson whoo like me had her share a mental problems. But also like Plath, Woolf and Hemingway, they were abel to write great classic and then travel onwards to death's path.

I have read a great deal on madness and creativity. Did you know that Dickens was also bipolar. He like other greater artists and intellectuals did his best work in his manic phase. Bloggers what do you think of madness and creativity.


Jee Leong, perhpas you could write me about this and write some nonfiction piece on this subject. Buddha Bless You.
2:59 PM
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