After I'm Gone

After I’m Gone

photography by / Mecuro B. Cotto

 

what’s to become of them

after i’m gone,

this cache  of poetry

with pages formatted and leather bound

that are the very breath of me

the breadth of who i am.

 

for all that i am

in the realm of this existence

lies here

upon these embossed pages

titled, versed and dated

through the vestige of time.

 

what’s to become of them

after  i’m gone,

when my voice is silenced

by the abyss of death

in the wake of seasons

that have nurtured me well.

 

after all that i am

returns to dust,

lamenting in the benediction

of a prayer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

This is beautiful, Kelly, questions that I have often thought of myself. All of my poems are handwritten in leather books, signed, dated, and timed. I have no children and no family to bequeath them to. I imagine after I'm gone, they will be tossed into a trash bin somewhere, never read and never known. My only way to let them breathe is in the here and now, here in this forum, shared with the ether.

[Kelly Scheppers]

I feel for your situation, Linda. Having no family to bequeath your extraordinary work to. It is only the here and now that we worry of things like this. After we pass, there will be no earthly chores to ponder...we will be free of such trivial things. I'm beginning to think it may all be left to a dear friend of mine. Time will tell, I suppose. Thank you so much for this lovely review!

[Julian]

Like the sand mandalas of the Tibetan monks, or the sand drawing of the Dine ( Navajo) so many incredible works are here for a time and then gone with no trace, except the memory of those who were blessed to experience them in their appointed time.

[Fabian G. Franklin]

Thankfully, worry is one thing we can't carry beyond the grave but love will survive. My mother and father's love survive in me and mine and their mothers in my children and grandchildren from generation to generation. That's how I most want to be remembered, "I loved him and he loved me". My youngest never met her grandparents so I speak of them often in respect and admiration. It's good to have roots so deep that the tree may fall and rise again. It may not be the same tree but it is nurtured by the same soil and water from the same roots. I think our culture and background contribute to those roots in many ways too. If I'm remembered as a poet, that will be okay but I'd most like to be remembered for the love I gave to those closest to me. It won't ever be lost in some dusty bin or stuffed away in some forgotten drawer. It will live on. I know it. But I do understand and empathize with the author here, we hope our work will not be lost. To me, my progeny are the true masterpieces of my love.

[Kelly Scheppers]

I loved how you expressed this, the love of past generations that lives within us, that we ourselves pass down to our children. I was only six when I lost my Dad. I pray his love will always live within me. Thank you, Fabian!

[Seriana]

This is powerful in its depth, a ponderance of questions most of us have probably asked. "What is all of this for?" it asks. Hits hard, but truthful and with feeling. I enjoyed it very much.

[Kelly Scheppers]

Thank you, Seriana. It's a thought that is rarely far from my mind.

[Dave]

Kelly - I find it interesting and a shame that you are at a loss as to what will become of your prose. Despite having a wife and two daughters, I feel the same. Only reluctantly do they read any of my work, none of my short stories, novels, and few, if any of my poems.
Take care - Dave

[Masked writer]

Oh my...This poem gives strength to work through our issues and break out of the community of people whom constantly put you down... bravo

[Kelly Scheppers]

Thank you!

[Masked writer]

no worries

[keith]

all these thoughtful words sans noise
difficult to write about what might become of our legacy (leftovers from some of us HA!)
articulated in soft tone respectfully done
we all wonder at times what is to become?

the words we chose and used were on loan from common languages and repaired refunctioned re-expressed and reclaimed by others for their purposes leaving those you chose to remain as they are ... within

great expression on a personal note

[Kelly Scheppers]

Many thanks, Keith!

[Relic]

My relatives don't know I write. Mine will sit here after I'm gone while people might wonder when I'll post again.

Think Ed Hart, Marie...and others. Their words still sit on their pages.

[Kelly Scheppers]

Perhaps it's a good thing, that they are still here in some capacity. Thank you, Tim!

[Dr. YumnaKay]

I've often wondered about it myself. The only comfort I give myself is to think of Anne Frank, whose works were found after her death. I've come to believe it's what's the fate of poets is. Long shot, but maybe that'll happen with me too.

A woman can dream :D

Lovely reading you, as always, Kelly.

[Kelly Scheppers]

Although our earthly bounds will no longer be tied to us after we've passed on, we all wish to be remembered in some capacity. Thank you for your presence today, Yumna. It's good to see you!

[Richard M]

I love this poem Kelly. I'm sure this is the question of every artist, which ever medium. I love the wording and your describing. One for the library please.
Take care my friend.
Richard

[Kelly Scheppers]

Thank you most kindly, Richard!

[Aura]

That is a question I've pondered. I usually keep my poetry on file on my computer, but if I pass away, will they be deleted? Gone? It's a depressing thought because I love writing, and these poems might not reach a wide audience and may just disappear. Though I guess poetry could live on through how we share them, if we share them. Do the words evaporate when we perish? Through works of Poe or Shakespeare, I guess they don't. You've written a thought provoking piece Kelly, I enjoyed reading. Thanks for sharing!

[Kelly Scheppers]

Thank you most kindly, Aura. It seems I have given cause for many here to ponder my dilemma as well!