This poem is inspired by and dedicated to a great spirit - proud Irishman, writer, poet, cinema projectionist and air-raid warden during WWII. May his soul rest in peace.

SCRIBE

All about me my children sigh,
as with each moment the end draws nigh,
dispirited I here recline,
o'er vagaries of fate I repine.

Fragments of plots litter my stage,
players unborn in battle engage,
enchant, coquette, repudiate,
yet nascent, incomplete, inchoate.

As tales untold course through my veins,
meekly I scale my losses and gains,
talent relinquished, lives rescued,
art forsaken, revenue accrued.

Delights of moving pictures spry,
grief at author’s designs gone awry,
joy of cradling my own firstborn,
by works abandoned rendered forlorn.

Loath am I with this life to part,
though regret festers deep in my heart,
'mong fruit of my quill would I abide,
as my spirit wanders far and wide.

My kith and kin, you made me whole,
Angel of Death would now have my soul,
grant me one last breath to imbibe,
I’m soon to be one with Heaven’s Scribe.

© 2014 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image: http://erasitexnisan.blogspot.in
Artist: Leonid Pasternak