The Reaping

The Reaping

A Poem by yellowdrgn9

Death looks up and shakes his head,

marveling at another dead.

"Again?" he asks a little tired,

"why is this job even required?"

 

He stands and stretches,

then moves on to the distant ledges.

Pausing a moment to watch the moon,

he soon descends on impending doom.

 

He views the scene with endless sorrow,

trying not to think of tomorrow.

He gathers new members into the flock,

clucking and coaxing them up the block.

 

He shoos them to the open meadow,

leaving them to another fellow.

Then death returns to his chair,

knowing his brother will come to care.

 

The ever powerful man of old,

soon appears in the developing cold,

waves a greeting to his sibling,

then takes his flock from the reaping.

© 2012 yellowdrgn9


Author's Note

yellowdrgn9
Please leave a comment thanks!!

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wow, great poem, wonderful rhyme but more importantly a great story told. I could almost feel reapers weariness at his endless task. Impressive

Posted 12 Years Ago



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Added on April 24, 2012
Last Updated on April 24, 2012
Tags: religous, death, truth, power

Author

yellowdrgn9
yellowdrgn9

Greenwood, IN



About
Hi! I am a teenager living in a more rural area of the US' Mid-west. I really enjoy writing but often find it hard to develop an entire storyline that I feel reflects the thought I have in mind. As a .. more..

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A Poem by yellowdrgn9