"Death of Archimedes" by Thomas Degeorge‘Dear Death…’ and Other Poems on Death by Susan Jarvis Bryant The Society January 27, 2024 Humor, Poetry 59 Comments . Dear Death… Don’t tickle with your sickle __Don’t taunt me when I’m sick. Don’t make me writhe. Don’t spare the scythe. __Be slick and stick me quick. Don’t waltz me long and slowly __Through shawl-and-slipper pain. Zap me with a thunderbolt __Stark-naked in the rain. Don’t sneak me from between the sheets __Inanimate and snoring. Don’t smite me in the yawn of night __While all is bleak and boring. Dispatch me at the crack of dawn __In daybreak’s frisky kiss. Pluck me from the carnal charms __Of hedonistic bliss. Don’t seize me as I puff and wheeze— __I’m born to blaze and burn. Rip me from my Romeo— __I’ll cool down in my urn. Don’t steal my zest. Don’t loom and jest __As brains and beauty fade. Erase me in flagrante— __Slay me getting laid. Let tattlers tut and titter __At news of my demise. Let bones ignite your pyre __As smoke and spirits rise. Boom a doozie of a dirge— __An anthem far from mild With notes that ring in words that sing __Of exits, hot and wild. . . Obitchuary This harridan has hissed her final slight. Her death has blessed her kin. They rest in peace. Blue moonbeams wreathe their hag-less world in light. This shrew’s demise means spleenful slams will cease— No rabid flak and ruckuses hereafter. This scold, who clawed the flawless out of shape, Possessed a knack for sucking sparks of laughter From rapture leaving dumbstruck mouths agape. She clouded every sunny celebration— One bourbon and a banshee lit her fuse. None will mourn this gorgon’s deportation— Departure of the harpy is good news. This catty battle-axe may very well Force Lucifer to flee the bowels of Hell. . . Deathbeds He wailed and tossed and flailed upon his deathbed One wince away from life’s last gasping throes. His doting wife danced where her smitten heart led. A swishing scythe kept love upon its toes. She prayed her man would meet his gracious Maker Beyond the bite of pain and brightest star. Four decades on and seven deathbeds later God’s polished pearly gates remained ajar. She claimed a refund on the walnut casket. She cancelled the deposit on a hearse. His foot refused to kick the rusty bucket So she refused to be his trusty nurse. She trashed her mags on plots and tombs and flowers Then splashed the cash she’d stashed for his demise On golden gifts for toiling stolen hours Hoodwinked by a pack of callous lies. She soaked up honey sun in the Bahamas. As Santa Muerte cast her tardy spell. He croaked at home alone in his pajamas. He’d warned his gadding spouse he wasn’t well. Moral: If death’s the cure for all of life’s diseases, Then seize the day in spite of aches and wheezes. . . Susan Jarvis Bryant has poetry published on Lighten Up Online, Snakeskin, Light, Sparks of Calliope, and Expansive Poetry Online. She also has poetry published in TRINACRIA, Beth Houston’s Extreme Formal Poems anthology, and in Openings (anthologies of poems by Open University Poets in the UK). Susan is the winner of the 2020 International SCP Poetry Competition, and has been nominated for the 2022 Pushcart Prize. NOTE TO READERS: If you enjoyed this poem or other content, please consider making a donation to the Society of Classical Poets. The Society of Classical Poets does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or commentary. Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)Trending now: 59 Responses Phil S. Rogers January 27, 2024 Susan; I really liked Dear Death, it says a lot on getting the most out of life. My first thought on Obitchuary, was a former First ‘Lady.’ Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant January 28, 2024 Phil, thank you very much, and I like your take on Obitchuary. Reply Roy Eugene Peterson January 27, 2024 We should all go out the way you more than intimate in “Dear Death”,” “Zapped by a thunderbolt stark naked in the rain” or writhing in a final fitting flailing farewell. In the second poem I laughed and began wondering for whom it was intended when I read the last two line: “This catty battle-axe may very well Force Lucifer to flee the bowels of Hell.” What a great thought! The last one reminded me of the story my wife told me of her husband who said he would be dead in six months from kidney failure, but he lasted twenty more years and was the consummate narcissist demanding her daily service, although he could have done them himself. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant January 28, 2024 Roy, thank you very much for your comment. I am pleased to know that my words are resonating with readers out there. Death is one of those tricky subjects that I simply had tackle. My Muse wouldn’t release me from her grip until I had. Reply Jeff Eardley January 27, 2024 Susan, we shouldn’t really be chuckling at poetry regarding death but you have done it again. Black humour is to be savoured as the guy with the sickle hovers over our declining years. “Obitchuary” reminded me of the funeral of a local lady. “Together at last” a woman sighed. “I never knew she was married” another one remarked. “You misunderstand” cried the first woman, “I was referring to her legs.” Thank you for a great smiley read today. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant January 28, 2024 Jeff, thank you for an hilarious comment that has eclipsed the dark humour of my poems to light the comments section with laughter. The term “together at last” will never hold the same meaning for me from this minute forward… I only hope I don’t laugh at the most inappropriate moment. Reply Joseph S. Salemi January 27, 2024 Holy swiving smoke, Susan! What a trio! One of the things I love about a Susan Bryant poem is that it is never predictable or reassuring. These are like three live grenades, pin out, tossed in the reader’s lap. It takes real poetic nerve to write comic poems about death. And these are more than comic — they’re subversive! The first THROWS ASIDE the usual lugubrious hearts-and-flower sentimentalism about death, and talks with the hedonistic honesty of Villon. The second CELEBRATES the death of some obnoxious bitch, without apology or squeamish hesitation. And the third, the most subversive of all, illustrates what a BORE someone else’s death can be when it is tedious and prolonged. I can imagine the shocked outrage that these three pieces would evoke if submitted to any of our State Poetry Society contests here in America, where only poems about niceness and brotherhood and love and apple pie are the typical entries. Susan, in boxing terminology you have given us a left hook, an upper cut, and a full roundhouse right. Knockout! Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant January 28, 2024 Holy swiving smoke (I love this phrase) what a comment! It’s wonderful to hear you have embraced my audacity in tackling the delicate subject of death. I always plunge headlong into poetry production without thinking of what readers may think, so I am thrilled to read this. The only trouble is, I know that as a poet I am only as good as my last three poems – “three live grenades, pin out, tossed in the reader’s lap” is one helluva hard act to follow. I hope I won’t disappoint. Joe, thank you! Reply Joshua C. Frank February 3, 2024 I have to admit that I have a bit of difficulty understanding these myself, as they are a bit shocking… but I believe people need to be shocked these days, as much of what shocks them was universally accepted as truth not so long ago. I recently read a statistic that Georges Brassens, my favorite French singer (basically a classical poet with a guitar), had 3/4 of his songs banned by all the radio stations in France in 1967 (when the statistic was written), mostly for things that would be considered quite tame today but shocked people back then. Whereas about that many of my or Susan’s poems can’t get published outside of a right-wing journal such as this, mostly for things that everyone in the Western world, even a sinful man like Brassens (who openly slept with married women), assumed to be true in 1967. A nearly complete inversion of morality in less than 60 years. So, even though I may personally be uncomfortable with the subjects of these poems, I believe these things need to be said for the shock value, precisely because all those poetry contests only allow “poems about niceness and brotherhood and love and apple pie.” I had an English teacher in high school who said, “If a book is banned, you should read it.” More and more, I see his wisdom. Reply Joseph S. Salemi February 3, 2024 It’s a question of tactics, Joshua. Back in the early 1960s the West was still heavily dominated by Christian morality, as the great Thomist scholar Frederick D. Wilhelmsen wrote in a memorable essay in National Review. Today that is no longer the case. The dominant “morality” of our time is that of diversity, equity, inclusion, perversion, transsexualism, anti-Western hatred, ecology, feminism, animal rights, multiculturalism, and all the related mental distempers that are now accepted by great masses of the population. These things are now Categorical Imperatives for millions, believed with the same unthinking ferocity as devout religionists believe in their doctrines. In such a situation, our best tactic is to pour vitriolic scorn and contempt on the above, in as offensive and as sarcastic manner as possible. Not preaching or arguing or proselytizing — those are the tactics of weakness and insecurity. We need to keep our skills razor-sharp as we mock, ridicule, and lampoon the new religion and its pieties. And we need to be totally unapologetic about it. What’s great about Susan’s poetry is how utterly transgressive of contemporary values it can be, and how fearless in that act of transgression. Joshua C. Frank February 3, 2024 Yes, I believe we’ve established all those facts quite well. But this set is surprising because it seems to be in favor of all kinds of things modern culture pushes: death, hatred, and spouse abandonment, to name a few. Since these are contrary to what Susan has gone on record as believing, I figure they’re written for shock value, possibly to rub the left’s faces in what they really believe, like a few poems I’ve written. Joseph S. Salemi February 3, 2024 Joshua, when you are transgressive you transgress EVERYTHING. Otherwise you’re just a partisan. What governs in the tactics of transgression is the old saying: “All’s fair in love and war.” Joshua C. Frank February 3, 2024 That makes sense. More and more, I’ve found that everything modern culture believes is not just factually incorrect, but downright evil. Indeed, when I learn that I’m in agreement with the culture on any topic, I question my judgment a the matter and then correct my thinking away from theirs. Some call that succumbing to the genetic fallacy, but that doesn’t apply when modern culture has openly defined itself in opposition to everything believed by faith, tradition, and even reason itself. Susan Jarvis Bryant February 5, 2024 Josh, thank you for reading and commenting. I know you are conversing with Joe, but I would like to clarify something. You say: But this set is surprising because it seems to be in favor of all kinds of things modern culture pushes: death, hatred, and spouse abandonment, to name a few. Since these are contrary to what Susan has gone on record as believing, I figure they’re written for shock value, possibly to rub the left’s faces in what they really believe… Each poem was written for fun… and that is all… it’s as simple as that. I have no political agenda, just a wry eye for the real. Taboo subjects (like death) are often romanticized and pussyfooted around through fear of offending, yet in most cases, real life is not the proverbial bowl of cherries. Not all spouses are above reproach. Just because someone dies, it doesn’t mean they should be instantly canonized. And some people delight in fleshly pleasures through fear of not living life to the full before their time is up. Just because I tap into the wacky nature of humankind, it doesn’t mean I agree with how any of my characters (even if written in the first person) are behaving. I just love to explore different aspects and angles of familiar and potentially tedious themes. Isn’t that what poetry is all about? Mike Bryant February 5, 2024 Pheeeww… so relieved to hear that these poems are fictive artifacts… I was afraid that if I got the flu or something you’d be headed to the Bahamas! Norma Elizabeth Okun January 27, 2024 I am glad Susan that I continue to read the three poems you wrote about death. All three had the passion and glee that can cause an emotion. When the bad people die, we are glad. You expressed many people who have been near death, lost people they were happy are gone. I like the poems because only in a poem form can feelings never told can be expressed. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant January 28, 2024 Hello Norma, it’s good to see you back. I’m glad you enjoyed the poems. There’s a lot of wisdom in your closing sentence, and I will admit to taking full advantage of poetry as a medium to get a few things off my chest with abandon. Thank you for your generous comment. Reply C.B. Anderson January 27, 2024 These are some of Susan’s best, and the one thing I am sure of is that before too long she will top them. Bahamas/pajamas is exquisite. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant January 28, 2024 C.B., coming from a poet of your skill, this is a huge compliment that I welcome with a beaming smile. Thank you very much indeed. Reply Paul A. Freeman January 27, 2024 In your face, Death! Love it. Obitchuary sounds quite personal, like a overdue venting. I enjoyed the narrative story behind Deathbeds. I think we’ve all known hypochondriacs who’ve made their partners’ lives hell. Good to see one get their comeuppance, even if only in verse. Thanks for the reads. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant January 29, 2024 Paul, thank you very much for reading and commenting. When one works in a funeral home, thinking outside the box is a must, which is why I wanted to present the flip side of all the cliches surrounding death. As far as ‘Obitchuary’ is concerned, sometimes shuffling off one’s mortal coil isn’t pretty… but decorum dictates that no one should mention the ugly truth… poetry has a tendency to draw it out. Reply Norma Pain January 27, 2024 For some, it is not easy to talk about death so these poems attack the subject with gusto and great humor. Really enjoyable. I especially liked “Dear Death”. Thank you Susan. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant January 29, 2024 Norma, you are right. Death isn’t easy to talk about, which is why I’ve thrown in a huge dose of humor. There’s a fine line between tragedy and comedy… and I think treading it keeps us on our toes, and keeps us sane. If we are able to laugh in the most dire of circumstances, then there is hope… unless, of course, you’re laughing the evil laugh of a Bond villain. I’m thrilled you like “Dear Death…” We’re all getting nearer to our graves as soon as we’re born… why not dance to our destiny with a smile 🙂 Reply Julian D. Woodruff January 28, 2024 Susan, I hope you meet up with an equally talented composer. Together you could rid the world of modern opera of its fatal sincerity. Reply Mike Bryant January 28, 2024 Julian, I’m not familiar with modern opera, however if it is anything like modern everything else… it definitely could use some real emotion. Fake sincerity is sincerely stupid and has gotten our world into a terrible place. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant January 29, 2024 Julian, what a beautiful thought. Reply Mike Bryant January 28, 2024 Susan, I am always amazed by the way you speed from the initial idea to a finished poem in hours, as you did with the first two poems. Now the third has a bit of history. You wrote that one a decade or so ago about a poet, who shall remain anonymous. We must’ve read a hundred poems by the poet over the course of about five years that explained how and why he was dying. As far as I know, he is still alive! You found that old poem and sharpened it up with some of the things you’ve picked up here at SCP. These are fearless, funny, gorgeous, redemptive and wonderfully entertaining. I think Julian is onto something! As for Obitchuary… the less said, the better! I am reminded of the poem ‘Bitcherel.’ Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant January 29, 2024 Thank you, biggest fan! Reply Brian A. Yapko January 28, 2024 Susan, my goodness! “Dear Death!” With you one must always expect the unexpected! It’s not so much that you mock Death as you renegotiate the relationship with one who may be frightening to most, or a angel of mercy to some. You rewrite him to be something akin to the bouncer at the Club after a night of frenetic frolic. I love your cheeky laundry list of when the timing of this intrusive act of closing the place would be best and you manage to make the bargaining process with the Grim Reaper into good (if sardonic) fun. But behind the bells and whistles of poetic devices and saucy language there’s a profound lesson here about living life to the fullest right up to that last moment. I get two reminders here: Auntie Mame admonishing that “Life is a banquet and most sons of bitches are starving to death.” The second is Sally Bowles in “Cabaret” describing her philosophy derived from her friend Elsie “from Chelsea” who died from living the hard life. “But when I saw her laid out like a queen/She was the happiest corpse I’d ever seen.” I don’t know how much of this poem is whistling in the graveyard, but you make a powerful point. Your “Obitchuary” poem is very funny and very sad. And very funny anyway. We’ve all known people who are dementors and who no one will mourn. As Cher’s character said to the first fiance who (happily) breaks of their engagement in “Moonstruck” – “Someday you’ll be dead and I’ll go to your funeral in a red dress.” Back to your poem. Will no one truly mourn this person? I’m not proud of it, but there are people – politicians mostly – who I cannot possibly mourn. In fact, that red dress looks better and better. You’ve captured something here that is brutally honest and makes me more than a little uneasy because of it. Your “Deathbeds” is also very funny, captures something very human and tickles many memories for me in the Estate Planning world of resentful relatives who waited “forever” for the old man to move on already so they could get their inheritances, only to be thwarted again and again. Until the old man moves into a nursing home, changes his will and leaves everything to his pretty young nurse. Human beings are so interesting. And that aspect of human nature you capture in spades! All three poems, Susan… superlative. And so entertaining. And disturbing. And entertaining! Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant January 30, 2024 Brian, my poems benefit from your keen and artistic eye for the craft together with your knack for tapping into the human condition, which makes for a highly entertaining, encouraging and inspiring read. Death as a “bouncer at the Club after a night of frenetic frolic” has pricked up the ears of my Muse and she’s interrupting me as I type. I love it! I love all of your observations, but particularly: “very funny and very sad. And very funny anyway” and “so entertaining. And disturbing. And entertaining!” These words say it all. They capture the very essence of my poems. Most importantly, they let me know that running down the road less travelled with a taboo subject has paid off, and for that I thank you wholeheartedly. Brian, your words mean a lot! Reply Mark Stellinga January 28, 2024 Susan, “cool down in my urn”! = Spontaneous gut-buster! What a great stack of poems to wake up to. Each one a legitimate dandy. I took the liberty of attaching one I wrote when in the same “mood”! Thank you for these, regardless of when or how quickly you penned them. (Watch your back, Mike!) Based On What It’s Worth I overheard my wife one evening talking with a friend, curious to know what happens to a person’s you-know-whats – When undertakers cremate them…wondering if she knew… “Can they save the ‘add-ons’ when they…barbecue your guts?” To hear this made me nauseous ‘cause my wife is well aware that I now have a brand new knee composed of pure titanium! On top of that…on top of ME…I’m sure she’ll have them chiseling to snag – before they burn my corpse – the platinum in my cranium! And – naturally – she’ll make them yank my gold and silver fillings before they fire the furnace up to do the damn cremation. Their plan was evil, through and through, including their intent To auction off my body-parts to pay for — their vacation! Holy gosh-dang-booger-poop, I hope like hell that woman ain’t around the day I die, ‘cause…when I leave this earth… I’d be ticked to know that she’d decided what she’d steal just before they lit me up — based on what it’s worth! Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant January 30, 2024 Mark, thank you very much for reading and commenting, and thank you too for the smile-inducing poem… a poem that shines a little light in the bleak wake of the Grim Reaper. Reply Shamik Banerjee January 28, 2024 I really enjoyed these, Susan. Dark humour is very refreshing and a must, given the immense banality of life. It occurred to me (maybe because of the poems’ unhindered fluidity) as if you’d spontaneously penned all three pieces nonstop. While each piece is excellent, I found “Obitchuary” to be outstanding! Thank you for making me and everyone laugh! Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant January 30, 2024 Shamik, thank you very much for your smile of a comment. I love a bit of dark humour, and I’m glad many readers do too. The third poem is an old one I tidied up, but the first and second are new… ‘Obitchuary’ being the newest. I thought the world lacked an alternative to the flowery tributes in keeping with the solemn subject of death… a bitter pinch of poetic reality, if you will. Reply James Sale January 28, 2024 More cornucopias of rich, rich language, but especially love that concluding couplet: This catty battle-axe may very well Force Lucifer to flee the bowels of Hell. Ha ha! Nice. Well done. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant January 30, 2024 James, thank you very much. I’m thrilled you like that couplet… I was sniggering as I wrote that one… the pairing of “catty” and “battle-axe” seemed such a perfect match, it brought on a fit of giggles. Reply David Whippman January 28, 2024 Susan, more skilled work from you. My favourite is “Dear Death…” worthy of Dorothy Parker! Reply Joseph S. Salemi January 28, 2024 Yes, I also thought of Dorothy Parker when I read “Dear Death…” It is very like her in theme, feisty attitude, and clipped style. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant January 30, 2024 David and Joe, what a wonderful compliment… thank you! Reply Yael January 28, 2024 This is great Susan, sounds like you are enjoying your work at the funeral home. All three poems are perfectly entertaining and are likely to make any raft guide chuckle. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant January 30, 2024 Yael, I was aiming for laughter, so I’m over the moon to hear that these poems have blessed you with a chuckle. I believe one needs a sense of humor to work in a funeral home… it’s a survival mechanism I draw upon regularly… though never in the public eye. Reply Michael Vanyukov January 30, 2024 Dear Susan, reads like drinking good old wine. One must be careful with you lest an epitaph like Obitchuary is deserved. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant January 30, 2024 Michael, what a beautiful comment. Thank you very much indeed. Rest assured that after a comment like this, any words I have to say about you are likely to be glowing with the wonder and warmth of an evening sunset. Reply Michael Vanyukov January 31, 2024 I’ll hold you to your word! 🙂 But that reminds me of a fable by the Russian fable writer Krylov (I’ll translate) who followed in the steps of La Fontaine (sometimes too close): “Why is the cuckoo gives praises so the rooster? Because, of course, he praises so the cuckoo.” Please do be vicious if I deserve that. Michael Vanyukov January 31, 2024 Sorry, got it all screwed up (haven’t woken up yet, maybe, or losing my marbles): “Why does the cuckoo praise the rooster so? Because, of course, he praises so the cuckoo.” Susan Jarvis Bryant February 2, 2024 Thank you, Michael. I love the wisdom of the Russian fable writer Krylov… from now onwards, I will never take the charm of a cuckoo to heart. Shaun C. Duncan January 30, 2024 These are magnificent, Susan – funny, instructive and a delight to read. The language in “Obitchuary” is gloriously pungent and “Deathbeds” reads like Hilaire Belloc at his best. As with your political satires, the dark subject matter really suits your wit and deft touch – you have a great skill at taking on themes which could easily become tired or overly ponderous in the hands of others and investing them instead with light and life. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant February 2, 2024 Shaun, what a wonderful comment. I’m thrilled you enjoyed my dark humour… I always like to look at life (and death) from unusual and often taboo angles that avoid the fluffy comfort zones. To be compared to Hilaire Belloc is a wonderful compliment that gives me the opportunity to post yet another death poem below. This was written some years ago, and I forgot about it until you mentioned the late, great Belloc. I hope you enjoy it. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant February 2, 2024 Guinevere: A Cautionary Tale with apologies to Hilaire Belloc A self-claimed seer named Guinevere Would never veer from things austere, Oft implying that denying Hankerings was gratifying. Satisfying brazen whim Was nothing but a blazing sin And all should strive to quell each spell Of excess sending souls to Hell – That rocky road to rack and ruin, That twisted track where trouble’s brewing In furnaces of all that’s heinous For those who chose to shun abstemious Leanings in their daily plans And live their lives as fervent fans Of titillation and delight, Of flagrant fun from morn till night, Of oohs and aahs and pile it high Upon the crest of why deny A dredge of this, a wedge of that With draughts of laughter from life’s vat. And so, she lived till ninety-nine Without the need to plead or pine For something that might mar or taint Her quest to be a sober saint, With pious glare in shirt of hair Living on the thinnest air, Abhorring all guffaws and japes That threatened blasting pearly gates From smoothest hinges oiled to swing For Guinevere when she walked in To grace the space of Holy Ghost. Now, back on earth I raise a toast Of fragrant wine in spilling glass To the farce of all things sparse – A path my feet are loathe to tread. They much prefer to dance instead… To cha-cha in life’s chocolate fountain, To reel in clover while I’m counting Blessings brimming in my cup. The jig of life I can’t give up. I’m born to have my heart’s desire. I’m set to sweat in Hade’s fire. For though I hear the martyr’s call, I’m simply meant to have it all! Upon chaise longue I drain a flute And shed a tear (while munching fruit) For Guinevere and all her kind. Good Lord, look what they’ve left behind! I won’t shun fun for burning flesh. I’ll party till I meet my death, For I declare (for what it’s worth) Paradise is here on earth. What’s not to say the life we’re given Is all we’ll ever see of Heaven? With due respect to Guinevere, I’ll whoop it up while I’m still here. 🙂 Reply Shaun C. Duncan February 4, 2024 This is fantastic, Susan, a rhetorical romp as wicked as it is delightful. No need to apologize to Belloc – he’d have been proud to have written it. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant February 5, 2024 Shaun, thank you very much indeed! I like to think Belloc would get a huge kick out of a poem inspired by his admirable works. Joseph S. Salemi February 2, 2024 A true hedonistic revel, Susan, and a stout defense of fleshly indulgence. And that second stanza: twelve lines of one complete grammatical apposition! This Guinevere certainly did not indulge herself, like the Arthurian queen. If this one had a Lancelot, he must have gone around in a state of perpetual unrelieved tumescence. Just one rhyme question — in the second line of the fourth stanza, how do you intend the word “glass” to be pronounced? Would it be the London East End Cockney pronunciation “glarse” (rhyming with “arse”?) I ask this because it would go perfectly with “sparse.” Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant February 5, 2024 Joe, you have made me grin. I chose the name Guinevere purposefully and you pick up on exactly why… perfectly. To answer your question, I still pronounce glass like “arse”. I try to be mindful of an American audience and often run my poems by Mike before submitting to Evan. I wrote this when I was still extremely British (with a London accent) and not thinking of an American audience. Reply Mike Bryant February 5, 2024 Susan, when you say “arse” it rhymes with “gloss” and I love it! Mike Bryant February 5, 2024 Hey Joe, Cambridge is a great help to me when I get lost in the sounds of her posh London accent! Hear the pronunciation of “arse” UK vs. US here: https://dictionary.cambridge.org/us/pronunciation/english/arse To my Texas ear, arse London style, rhymes with “gloss” or “floss.” On that same page, Susan reckons that the “US” pronunciation of “arse” is actually closer to a Devonshire, UK accent than it is to a London accent because the “R” is pronounced. Reply Daniel Kemper February 3, 2024 Your metrical sure-footedness is always so pleasing to read. And the delight with which your steps bounce along here remind me of how gleefully Dante wrote of enemies at their various sufferings in Inferno. I always look for your stuff, though these days, often running behind all the others’ praise. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant February 5, 2024 Daniel, what a lovely compliment. I’m thrilled to hear you enjoy my poetry… nothing would ever stop me writing… I simply have to, but it’s comments like this that make it all worthwhile. Reply Adam Wasem February 5, 2024 Amusing and clever and tongue-trippingly terrific as always, Susan. “O death, where is thy sting?” Not in these poems, that’s for sure. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant February 5, 2024 Adam, it’s always a pleasure to hear from you and your comment has made me smile. I’ve enjoyed dancing with death in the lines of these poems… and I’m thrilled you enjoyed them. Thank you! Reply Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. Δ This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.
Phil S. Rogers January 27, 2024 Susan; I really liked Dear Death, it says a lot on getting the most out of life. My first thought on Obitchuary, was a former First ‘Lady.’ Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant January 28, 2024 Phil, thank you very much, and I like your take on Obitchuary. Reply
Roy Eugene Peterson January 27, 2024 We should all go out the way you more than intimate in “Dear Death”,” “Zapped by a thunderbolt stark naked in the rain” or writhing in a final fitting flailing farewell. In the second poem I laughed and began wondering for whom it was intended when I read the last two line: “This catty battle-axe may very well Force Lucifer to flee the bowels of Hell.” What a great thought! The last one reminded me of the story my wife told me of her husband who said he would be dead in six months from kidney failure, but he lasted twenty more years and was the consummate narcissist demanding her daily service, although he could have done them himself. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant January 28, 2024 Roy, thank you very much for your comment. I am pleased to know that my words are resonating with readers out there. Death is one of those tricky subjects that I simply had tackle. My Muse wouldn’t release me from her grip until I had. Reply
Jeff Eardley January 27, 2024 Susan, we shouldn’t really be chuckling at poetry regarding death but you have done it again. Black humour is to be savoured as the guy with the sickle hovers over our declining years. “Obitchuary” reminded me of the funeral of a local lady. “Together at last” a woman sighed. “I never knew she was married” another one remarked. “You misunderstand” cried the first woman, “I was referring to her legs.” Thank you for a great smiley read today. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant January 28, 2024 Jeff, thank you for an hilarious comment that has eclipsed the dark humour of my poems to light the comments section with laughter. The term “together at last” will never hold the same meaning for me from this minute forward… I only hope I don’t laugh at the most inappropriate moment. Reply
Joseph S. Salemi January 27, 2024 Holy swiving smoke, Susan! What a trio! One of the things I love about a Susan Bryant poem is that it is never predictable or reassuring. These are like three live grenades, pin out, tossed in the reader’s lap. It takes real poetic nerve to write comic poems about death. And these are more than comic — they’re subversive! The first THROWS ASIDE the usual lugubrious hearts-and-flower sentimentalism about death, and talks with the hedonistic honesty of Villon. The second CELEBRATES the death of some obnoxious bitch, without apology or squeamish hesitation. And the third, the most subversive of all, illustrates what a BORE someone else’s death can be when it is tedious and prolonged. I can imagine the shocked outrage that these three pieces would evoke if submitted to any of our State Poetry Society contests here in America, where only poems about niceness and brotherhood and love and apple pie are the typical entries. Susan, in boxing terminology you have given us a left hook, an upper cut, and a full roundhouse right. Knockout! Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant January 28, 2024 Holy swiving smoke (I love this phrase) what a comment! It’s wonderful to hear you have embraced my audacity in tackling the delicate subject of death. I always plunge headlong into poetry production without thinking of what readers may think, so I am thrilled to read this. The only trouble is, I know that as a poet I am only as good as my last three poems – “three live grenades, pin out, tossed in the reader’s lap” is one helluva hard act to follow. I hope I won’t disappoint. Joe, thank you! Reply
Joshua C. Frank February 3, 2024 I have to admit that I have a bit of difficulty understanding these myself, as they are a bit shocking… but I believe people need to be shocked these days, as much of what shocks them was universally accepted as truth not so long ago. I recently read a statistic that Georges Brassens, my favorite French singer (basically a classical poet with a guitar), had 3/4 of his songs banned by all the radio stations in France in 1967 (when the statistic was written), mostly for things that would be considered quite tame today but shocked people back then. Whereas about that many of my or Susan’s poems can’t get published outside of a right-wing journal such as this, mostly for things that everyone in the Western world, even a sinful man like Brassens (who openly slept with married women), assumed to be true in 1967. A nearly complete inversion of morality in less than 60 years. So, even though I may personally be uncomfortable with the subjects of these poems, I believe these things need to be said for the shock value, precisely because all those poetry contests only allow “poems about niceness and brotherhood and love and apple pie.” I had an English teacher in high school who said, “If a book is banned, you should read it.” More and more, I see his wisdom. Reply
Joseph S. Salemi February 3, 2024 It’s a question of tactics, Joshua. Back in the early 1960s the West was still heavily dominated by Christian morality, as the great Thomist scholar Frederick D. Wilhelmsen wrote in a memorable essay in National Review. Today that is no longer the case. The dominant “morality” of our time is that of diversity, equity, inclusion, perversion, transsexualism, anti-Western hatred, ecology, feminism, animal rights, multiculturalism, and all the related mental distempers that are now accepted by great masses of the population. These things are now Categorical Imperatives for millions, believed with the same unthinking ferocity as devout religionists believe in their doctrines. In such a situation, our best tactic is to pour vitriolic scorn and contempt on the above, in as offensive and as sarcastic manner as possible. Not preaching or arguing or proselytizing — those are the tactics of weakness and insecurity. We need to keep our skills razor-sharp as we mock, ridicule, and lampoon the new religion and its pieties. And we need to be totally unapologetic about it. What’s great about Susan’s poetry is how utterly transgressive of contemporary values it can be, and how fearless in that act of transgression.
Joshua C. Frank February 3, 2024 Yes, I believe we’ve established all those facts quite well. But this set is surprising because it seems to be in favor of all kinds of things modern culture pushes: death, hatred, and spouse abandonment, to name a few. Since these are contrary to what Susan has gone on record as believing, I figure they’re written for shock value, possibly to rub the left’s faces in what they really believe, like a few poems I’ve written.
Joseph S. Salemi February 3, 2024 Joshua, when you are transgressive you transgress EVERYTHING. Otherwise you’re just a partisan. What governs in the tactics of transgression is the old saying: “All’s fair in love and war.”
Joshua C. Frank February 3, 2024 That makes sense. More and more, I’ve found that everything modern culture believes is not just factually incorrect, but downright evil. Indeed, when I learn that I’m in agreement with the culture on any topic, I question my judgment a the matter and then correct my thinking away from theirs. Some call that succumbing to the genetic fallacy, but that doesn’t apply when modern culture has openly defined itself in opposition to everything believed by faith, tradition, and even reason itself.
Susan Jarvis Bryant February 5, 2024 Josh, thank you for reading and commenting. I know you are conversing with Joe, but I would like to clarify something. You say: But this set is surprising because it seems to be in favor of all kinds of things modern culture pushes: death, hatred, and spouse abandonment, to name a few. Since these are contrary to what Susan has gone on record as believing, I figure they’re written for shock value, possibly to rub the left’s faces in what they really believe… Each poem was written for fun… and that is all… it’s as simple as that. I have no political agenda, just a wry eye for the real. Taboo subjects (like death) are often romanticized and pussyfooted around through fear of offending, yet in most cases, real life is not the proverbial bowl of cherries. Not all spouses are above reproach. Just because someone dies, it doesn’t mean they should be instantly canonized. And some people delight in fleshly pleasures through fear of not living life to the full before their time is up. Just because I tap into the wacky nature of humankind, it doesn’t mean I agree with how any of my characters (even if written in the first person) are behaving. I just love to explore different aspects and angles of familiar and potentially tedious themes. Isn’t that what poetry is all about?
Mike Bryant February 5, 2024 Pheeeww… so relieved to hear that these poems are fictive artifacts… I was afraid that if I got the flu or something you’d be headed to the Bahamas!
Norma Elizabeth Okun January 27, 2024 I am glad Susan that I continue to read the three poems you wrote about death. All three had the passion and glee that can cause an emotion. When the bad people die, we are glad. You expressed many people who have been near death, lost people they were happy are gone. I like the poems because only in a poem form can feelings never told can be expressed. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant January 28, 2024 Hello Norma, it’s good to see you back. I’m glad you enjoyed the poems. There’s a lot of wisdom in your closing sentence, and I will admit to taking full advantage of poetry as a medium to get a few things off my chest with abandon. Thank you for your generous comment. Reply
C.B. Anderson January 27, 2024 These are some of Susan’s best, and the one thing I am sure of is that before too long she will top them. Bahamas/pajamas is exquisite. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant January 28, 2024 C.B., coming from a poet of your skill, this is a huge compliment that I welcome with a beaming smile. Thank you very much indeed. Reply
Paul A. Freeman January 27, 2024 In your face, Death! Love it. Obitchuary sounds quite personal, like a overdue venting. I enjoyed the narrative story behind Deathbeds. I think we’ve all known hypochondriacs who’ve made their partners’ lives hell. Good to see one get their comeuppance, even if only in verse. Thanks for the reads. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant January 29, 2024 Paul, thank you very much for reading and commenting. When one works in a funeral home, thinking outside the box is a must, which is why I wanted to present the flip side of all the cliches surrounding death. As far as ‘Obitchuary’ is concerned, sometimes shuffling off one’s mortal coil isn’t pretty… but decorum dictates that no one should mention the ugly truth… poetry has a tendency to draw it out. Reply
Norma Pain January 27, 2024 For some, it is not easy to talk about death so these poems attack the subject with gusto and great humor. Really enjoyable. I especially liked “Dear Death”. Thank you Susan. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant January 29, 2024 Norma, you are right. Death isn’t easy to talk about, which is why I’ve thrown in a huge dose of humor. There’s a fine line between tragedy and comedy… and I think treading it keeps us on our toes, and keeps us sane. If we are able to laugh in the most dire of circumstances, then there is hope… unless, of course, you’re laughing the evil laugh of a Bond villain. I’m thrilled you like “Dear Death…” We’re all getting nearer to our graves as soon as we’re born… why not dance to our destiny with a smile 🙂 Reply
Julian D. Woodruff January 28, 2024 Susan, I hope you meet up with an equally talented composer. Together you could rid the world of modern opera of its fatal sincerity. Reply
Mike Bryant January 28, 2024 Julian, I’m not familiar with modern opera, however if it is anything like modern everything else… it definitely could use some real emotion. Fake sincerity is sincerely stupid and has gotten our world into a terrible place. Reply
Mike Bryant January 28, 2024 Susan, I am always amazed by the way you speed from the initial idea to a finished poem in hours, as you did with the first two poems. Now the third has a bit of history. You wrote that one a decade or so ago about a poet, who shall remain anonymous. We must’ve read a hundred poems by the poet over the course of about five years that explained how and why he was dying. As far as I know, he is still alive! You found that old poem and sharpened it up with some of the things you’ve picked up here at SCP. These are fearless, funny, gorgeous, redemptive and wonderfully entertaining. I think Julian is onto something! As for Obitchuary… the less said, the better! I am reminded of the poem ‘Bitcherel.’ Reply
Brian A. Yapko January 28, 2024 Susan, my goodness! “Dear Death!” With you one must always expect the unexpected! It’s not so much that you mock Death as you renegotiate the relationship with one who may be frightening to most, or a angel of mercy to some. You rewrite him to be something akin to the bouncer at the Club after a night of frenetic frolic. I love your cheeky laundry list of when the timing of this intrusive act of closing the place would be best and you manage to make the bargaining process with the Grim Reaper into good (if sardonic) fun. But behind the bells and whistles of poetic devices and saucy language there’s a profound lesson here about living life to the fullest right up to that last moment. I get two reminders here: Auntie Mame admonishing that “Life is a banquet and most sons of bitches are starving to death.” The second is Sally Bowles in “Cabaret” describing her philosophy derived from her friend Elsie “from Chelsea” who died from living the hard life. “But when I saw her laid out like a queen/She was the happiest corpse I’d ever seen.” I don’t know how much of this poem is whistling in the graveyard, but you make a powerful point. Your “Obitchuary” poem is very funny and very sad. And very funny anyway. We’ve all known people who are dementors and who no one will mourn. As Cher’s character said to the first fiance who (happily) breaks of their engagement in “Moonstruck” – “Someday you’ll be dead and I’ll go to your funeral in a red dress.” Back to your poem. Will no one truly mourn this person? I’m not proud of it, but there are people – politicians mostly – who I cannot possibly mourn. In fact, that red dress looks better and better. You’ve captured something here that is brutally honest and makes me more than a little uneasy because of it. Your “Deathbeds” is also very funny, captures something very human and tickles many memories for me in the Estate Planning world of resentful relatives who waited “forever” for the old man to move on already so they could get their inheritances, only to be thwarted again and again. Until the old man moves into a nursing home, changes his will and leaves everything to his pretty young nurse. Human beings are so interesting. And that aspect of human nature you capture in spades! All three poems, Susan… superlative. And so entertaining. And disturbing. And entertaining! Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant January 30, 2024 Brian, my poems benefit from your keen and artistic eye for the craft together with your knack for tapping into the human condition, which makes for a highly entertaining, encouraging and inspiring read. Death as a “bouncer at the Club after a night of frenetic frolic” has pricked up the ears of my Muse and she’s interrupting me as I type. I love it! I love all of your observations, but particularly: “very funny and very sad. And very funny anyway” and “so entertaining. And disturbing. And entertaining!” These words say it all. They capture the very essence of my poems. Most importantly, they let me know that running down the road less travelled with a taboo subject has paid off, and for that I thank you wholeheartedly. Brian, your words mean a lot! Reply
Mark Stellinga January 28, 2024 Susan, “cool down in my urn”! = Spontaneous gut-buster! What a great stack of poems to wake up to. Each one a legitimate dandy. I took the liberty of attaching one I wrote when in the same “mood”! Thank you for these, regardless of when or how quickly you penned them. (Watch your back, Mike!) Based On What It’s Worth I overheard my wife one evening talking with a friend, curious to know what happens to a person’s you-know-whats – When undertakers cremate them…wondering if she knew… “Can they save the ‘add-ons’ when they…barbecue your guts?” To hear this made me nauseous ‘cause my wife is well aware that I now have a brand new knee composed of pure titanium! On top of that…on top of ME…I’m sure she’ll have them chiseling to snag – before they burn my corpse – the platinum in my cranium! And – naturally – she’ll make them yank my gold and silver fillings before they fire the furnace up to do the damn cremation. Their plan was evil, through and through, including their intent To auction off my body-parts to pay for — their vacation! Holy gosh-dang-booger-poop, I hope like hell that woman ain’t around the day I die, ‘cause…when I leave this earth… I’d be ticked to know that she’d decided what she’d steal just before they lit me up — based on what it’s worth! Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant January 30, 2024 Mark, thank you very much for reading and commenting, and thank you too for the smile-inducing poem… a poem that shines a little light in the bleak wake of the Grim Reaper. Reply
Shamik Banerjee January 28, 2024 I really enjoyed these, Susan. Dark humour is very refreshing and a must, given the immense banality of life. It occurred to me (maybe because of the poems’ unhindered fluidity) as if you’d spontaneously penned all three pieces nonstop. While each piece is excellent, I found “Obitchuary” to be outstanding! Thank you for making me and everyone laugh! Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant January 30, 2024 Shamik, thank you very much for your smile of a comment. I love a bit of dark humour, and I’m glad many readers do too. The third poem is an old one I tidied up, but the first and second are new… ‘Obitchuary’ being the newest. I thought the world lacked an alternative to the flowery tributes in keeping with the solemn subject of death… a bitter pinch of poetic reality, if you will. Reply
James Sale January 28, 2024 More cornucopias of rich, rich language, but especially love that concluding couplet: This catty battle-axe may very well Force Lucifer to flee the bowels of Hell. Ha ha! Nice. Well done. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant January 30, 2024 James, thank you very much. I’m thrilled you like that couplet… I was sniggering as I wrote that one… the pairing of “catty” and “battle-axe” seemed such a perfect match, it brought on a fit of giggles. Reply
David Whippman January 28, 2024 Susan, more skilled work from you. My favourite is “Dear Death…” worthy of Dorothy Parker! Reply
Joseph S. Salemi January 28, 2024 Yes, I also thought of Dorothy Parker when I read “Dear Death…” It is very like her in theme, feisty attitude, and clipped style. Reply
Yael January 28, 2024 This is great Susan, sounds like you are enjoying your work at the funeral home. All three poems are perfectly entertaining and are likely to make any raft guide chuckle. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant January 30, 2024 Yael, I was aiming for laughter, so I’m over the moon to hear that these poems have blessed you with a chuckle. I believe one needs a sense of humor to work in a funeral home… it’s a survival mechanism I draw upon regularly… though never in the public eye. Reply
Michael Vanyukov January 30, 2024 Dear Susan, reads like drinking good old wine. One must be careful with you lest an epitaph like Obitchuary is deserved. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant January 30, 2024 Michael, what a beautiful comment. Thank you very much indeed. Rest assured that after a comment like this, any words I have to say about you are likely to be glowing with the wonder and warmth of an evening sunset. Reply
Michael Vanyukov January 31, 2024 I’ll hold you to your word! 🙂 But that reminds me of a fable by the Russian fable writer Krylov (I’ll translate) who followed in the steps of La Fontaine (sometimes too close): “Why is the cuckoo gives praises so the rooster? Because, of course, he praises so the cuckoo.” Please do be vicious if I deserve that.
Michael Vanyukov January 31, 2024 Sorry, got it all screwed up (haven’t woken up yet, maybe, or losing my marbles): “Why does the cuckoo praise the rooster so? Because, of course, he praises so the cuckoo.”
Susan Jarvis Bryant February 2, 2024 Thank you, Michael. I love the wisdom of the Russian fable writer Krylov… from now onwards, I will never take the charm of a cuckoo to heart.
Shaun C. Duncan January 30, 2024 These are magnificent, Susan – funny, instructive and a delight to read. The language in “Obitchuary” is gloriously pungent and “Deathbeds” reads like Hilaire Belloc at his best. As with your political satires, the dark subject matter really suits your wit and deft touch – you have a great skill at taking on themes which could easily become tired or overly ponderous in the hands of others and investing them instead with light and life. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant February 2, 2024 Shaun, what a wonderful comment. I’m thrilled you enjoyed my dark humour… I always like to look at life (and death) from unusual and often taboo angles that avoid the fluffy comfort zones. To be compared to Hilaire Belloc is a wonderful compliment that gives me the opportunity to post yet another death poem below. This was written some years ago, and I forgot about it until you mentioned the late, great Belloc. I hope you enjoy it. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant February 2, 2024 Guinevere: A Cautionary Tale with apologies to Hilaire Belloc A self-claimed seer named Guinevere Would never veer from things austere, Oft implying that denying Hankerings was gratifying. Satisfying brazen whim Was nothing but a blazing sin And all should strive to quell each spell Of excess sending souls to Hell – That rocky road to rack and ruin, That twisted track where trouble’s brewing In furnaces of all that’s heinous For those who chose to shun abstemious Leanings in their daily plans And live their lives as fervent fans Of titillation and delight, Of flagrant fun from morn till night, Of oohs and aahs and pile it high Upon the crest of why deny A dredge of this, a wedge of that With draughts of laughter from life’s vat. And so, she lived till ninety-nine Without the need to plead or pine For something that might mar or taint Her quest to be a sober saint, With pious glare in shirt of hair Living on the thinnest air, Abhorring all guffaws and japes That threatened blasting pearly gates From smoothest hinges oiled to swing For Guinevere when she walked in To grace the space of Holy Ghost. Now, back on earth I raise a toast Of fragrant wine in spilling glass To the farce of all things sparse – A path my feet are loathe to tread. They much prefer to dance instead… To cha-cha in life’s chocolate fountain, To reel in clover while I’m counting Blessings brimming in my cup. The jig of life I can’t give up. I’m born to have my heart’s desire. I’m set to sweat in Hade’s fire. For though I hear the martyr’s call, I’m simply meant to have it all! Upon chaise longue I drain a flute And shed a tear (while munching fruit) For Guinevere and all her kind. Good Lord, look what they’ve left behind! I won’t shun fun for burning flesh. I’ll party till I meet my death, For I declare (for what it’s worth) Paradise is here on earth. What’s not to say the life we’re given Is all we’ll ever see of Heaven? With due respect to Guinevere, I’ll whoop it up while I’m still here. 🙂 Reply
Shaun C. Duncan February 4, 2024 This is fantastic, Susan, a rhetorical romp as wicked as it is delightful. No need to apologize to Belloc – he’d have been proud to have written it. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant February 5, 2024 Shaun, thank you very much indeed! I like to think Belloc would get a huge kick out of a poem inspired by his admirable works.
Joseph S. Salemi February 2, 2024 A true hedonistic revel, Susan, and a stout defense of fleshly indulgence. And that second stanza: twelve lines of one complete grammatical apposition! This Guinevere certainly did not indulge herself, like the Arthurian queen. If this one had a Lancelot, he must have gone around in a state of perpetual unrelieved tumescence. Just one rhyme question — in the second line of the fourth stanza, how do you intend the word “glass” to be pronounced? Would it be the London East End Cockney pronunciation “glarse” (rhyming with “arse”?) I ask this because it would go perfectly with “sparse.” Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant February 5, 2024 Joe, you have made me grin. I chose the name Guinevere purposefully and you pick up on exactly why… perfectly. To answer your question, I still pronounce glass like “arse”. I try to be mindful of an American audience and often run my poems by Mike before submitting to Evan. I wrote this when I was still extremely British (with a London accent) and not thinking of an American audience. Reply
Mike Bryant February 5, 2024 Hey Joe, Cambridge is a great help to me when I get lost in the sounds of her posh London accent! Hear the pronunciation of “arse” UK vs. US here: https://dictionary.cambridge.org/us/pronunciation/english/arse To my Texas ear, arse London style, rhymes with “gloss” or “floss.” On that same page, Susan reckons that the “US” pronunciation of “arse” is actually closer to a Devonshire, UK accent than it is to a London accent because the “R” is pronounced. Reply
Daniel Kemper February 3, 2024 Your metrical sure-footedness is always so pleasing to read. And the delight with which your steps bounce along here remind me of how gleefully Dante wrote of enemies at their various sufferings in Inferno. I always look for your stuff, though these days, often running behind all the others’ praise. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant February 5, 2024 Daniel, what a lovely compliment. I’m thrilled to hear you enjoy my poetry… nothing would ever stop me writing… I simply have to, but it’s comments like this that make it all worthwhile. Reply
Adam Wasem February 5, 2024 Amusing and clever and tongue-trippingly terrific as always, Susan. “O death, where is thy sting?” Not in these poems, that’s for sure. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant February 5, 2024 Adam, it’s always a pleasure to hear from you and your comment has made me smile. I’ve enjoyed dancing with death in the lines of these poems… and I’m thrilled you enjoyed them. Thank you! Reply
