Some Poems For the Final Hours

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Dylan Thomas


To the last, I grapple with thee; From Hell's heart, I stab at thee; For hate's sake, I spit my last breath at thee.
Herman Melville


Bring tea for the Tillerman
Steak for the son
Wine for the woman who made the rain come
Seagulls sing your hearts away,
Cause while the sinners sin,
The children play
Oh lord how they play and play
For that happy day,
For that happy day
Cat Stevens


Ass Ode
Oh my ass you have expanded
In inches exponential
Realized your full potential
I cry tears torrential
Laura Batchman