He sat there pondering weak and weary
Napping, suddenly there was tapping
This was in the darkest night
Of his senses he took flight
Startled, who can it be?
By candlelight he could barely see
A shadow looming in the dark
Or was it the black dogs bark
Just then the silence was unbroken
It is time be not afraid
With that a hand on him was laid
It was time to meet his maker
The shadow, was that of the grim reaper.
© Chris Black. April 2018
Spoken word version @Chris Black 36 SoundCloud.
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Published by Chris Black ~The Poet's Poet~
The published and unpublished manuscripts of Chris Black. A writer from Wexford, Chris has been writing and publishing poetry for over quarter of a century. September 2016 saw his dream come to fruition with the publication of his first book of Poetry and Short Stories titled Same Train, Different Track.
Preferred reading - Autobiographies, the history of the native American Indian and a vast array of poetry books. Continues to write by day and night by giving the sawdust a shake which in turn awakens the grey matter. - has an eclectic taste in music, spent 16 happy years as a radio presenter in a part time capacity while "slaving" away at the coal face now enjoying all that retirement has to offer and more. Tweets @CJBlack2012, on Soundcloud @ https://soundcloud.com/the-poets-poet-1 youtube @Chris Black-poetry-spoken word. You can find his "work" at https://chrisblack2012.wordpress.com If you do happen to drop by do let him know your thoughts, who you are and where you come from - He will in time also pay you a return visit. Thank you.
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