Death, O Fallen Angel (Death Be Not Proud revisited)

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Oh Death! Thou vaunted fool, proud son of sin’s defiling,
Oft thought of as potent, supreme, and unyielding
How hast thou fallen, been debased and made servile
Those who feared thy touch, who you thought to defile
Will not be brought low, nor in dark oblivion sleep.
For thy touch, no longer bitter, is so very sweet,
And though the greatest men slip the bonds of earth
To rest because of thee, yet you are bound by birth
And the life of one man, whom you could not contain.
And you do even choose the time and station in vain,
Being subject to the beck and call of every beggarly
Thief, proud king, and common chance. In the company
Of disease and contagion, you pass your time, for you
Have no better association. Thy touch is soft in lieu
Of pain, as once it was, now dulled and sweetened till
The passage of this life, with opiate and dream will
Slip peacefully into eternal bliss. O Death, where now
Is thy vaunted pride. Gone, and no longer can’st thou
Escape thine own touch. O Death, even thou wilt die,
Eternal death for you awaits, when we see Him in the sky

This poem was written in response Trash Talking Death, a post written by Joy.

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About Author

I have been writing on the web since 2000. I am a christian , a photographer, an occasional poet, a recovering dreamer, an occasional philosopher, a software developer, an autodidact, and i resemble the INFP personality type.

2 Comments

  1. Awesome!!! I love it! Thanks for finishing it =)

    “yet you are bound by birth
    And the life of one man, whom you could not contain.”
    You bring out this fact more than Donne did, and I’m really glad that you put in this greatest irony of all time.

    “subject to the beck and call of every beggarly
    Thief, proud king, and common chance.”
    another favorite line =)

  2. Very nicely done… especially bringing out the aspect of eternal hope through life in Christ.