All of our days of calmness are numbered
Along with all of our turbulent nights
Our future is also encumbered
From all our pleasures and so delights
A pendulum for each one of us is swinging
Counting off the days that we have left
Listen closely and hear the angels singing
As they soon will bid us farewell into the cleft
Tonight it might be our very last day
Or maybe that time it will be tomorrow
So for now I will review my life and pray
As I hope not to leave with hate or sorrow.
Randy L. McClave
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Comments about this poem (Days Numbered by Randy McClave )
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(13 September 1916 – 23 November 1990)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
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- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
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