Don't Let Me Die A Young Man's Death
Poet's Notes

Robert J. Lindley, 3-19-2019
Rhyme, ( Good Health, Long Life, Greatest Of Treasures )

Note: Inspired to compose this new poem this morn,
after reading the great poem by Roger McGough.....--Tyr

*** *** ***

Let Me Die A Youngman's Death - Poem by Roger McGough

Let me die a youngman's death
not a clean and inbetween
the sheets holywater death
not a famous-last-words
peaceful out of breath death

When I'm 73
and in constant good tumour
may I be mown down at dawn
by a bright red sports car
on my way home
from an all night party

Or when I'm 91
with silver hair
and sitting in a barber's chair
may rival gangsters
with hamfisted tommyguns burst in
and give me a short back and insides

Or when I'm 104
and banned from the Cavern
may my mistress
catching me in bed with her daughter
and fearing for her son
cut me up into little pieces
and throw away every piece but one

Let me die a youngman's death
not a free from sin tiptoe in
candle wax and waning death
not a curtains drawn by angels borne
'what a nice way to go' death

by Roger McGough

************************************************** ******

Don't Let Me Die A Young Man's Death

Let me live healthy a century more
not hard decades filled with old age and pains
not as sad, ungrateful angry old bore
nor even man of wealth and stolen gains
just a death that casts me through that last door.

When I have made my seventy-five years
may I not be fried by a lightning bolt
one that is so hot that it burns up tears
not one from pale sky with too weak a jolt
nor a death so quick it destroys my fears.

When ninety, let sleep not take me away
may I be in my youthful dreams of love
those so hot that they scorched coldest of days
not those with large monsters flying above
not death so strong, it destroys coming day.

When I am hundred and five, send not this
a ninja clad in black with sharpest blade
or a poisonous snake with silent hiss
one certified by instant deaths it made
nor death so fast, I feel not its last kiss!

When I am at one hundred sixty-five
may invisible hand remove my head
if time has passed and I am still alive
by hand of Fate, make sure I am true dead
just a sure death, one so richly contrived.

Robert J. Lindley, 3-19-2019
Rhyme, ( Good Health, Long Life, Greatest Of Treasures )

Note: Inspired to compose this new poem this morn,
after reading the great poem by Roger McGough.....

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2019