You Will Forget Me (when I'm gone)

PAD Challenge21: Here is Robert Lee Brewer's Prompt for Today

For today's prompt, take the phrase "(blank) Me," 

replace the blank with a word or phrase, 

make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. 

Possible titles include: "Tell Me," "Forgive Me," and/or "You've Got to Believe Me." 

Of course, feel free to bend the rules 

and have a title like "Home Sweet Ho(me)" or "Pick a The(me)."

Okay, so I acknowledge,

my homespun scribblings will never grace the Literary World's Center Stage,

but it's still important to remember,

'that fields of ink may live from age to age'

These volumes below are living proof !

 

These few pages above are just a glimpse of 

this volume packed with ancient masterpieces,

as powerful/relevant today as the day they were penned!

My name will fade from thoughts and lips when I am dead and gone

The echo-world of 'us' will slip as Time’s Corp marches on

The bulk of my possessions and the things that I held dear

Will pass through hands; for we are all just brief sojourners here

All bound to be forgot, as generations disappear

Thus, here’s to poetry; its sea of passion undeterred

For though the poet may be gone, long lives the written word

The hand that held the pen, long after it returns to dust

May cheer some future fellowman, may buoy failing trust

May remind him or her though we are centuries apart

Time never really could deter the matters of the heart

Where love is our utter need and longing is its dart

Then write, dear poet, write; but bear in mind the grit of ink

Though we are gone a poem might live longer than we think

My name will fade like morning mist beneath the glaring sun

Soon all the faces that I kissed will to death’s tryst succumb

Who knows who waits to turn the leaves of Poet’s printed jot

What thread of influence will weave through some far future thought

Or who will glean the remnant sheaves of harvests, long forgot

Therefore, dear poet, as we plant the pastures of the page

Let’s not forget that fields of ink may live from age to age

© Janet Martin