A Swallow Song Too Late

[Sale]

Hi,

Well this is something I don't usually do but here goes.

Please could you comment on a poem that I had thought of about an hour ago. The words honestly just came off my hands and I have NEVER wrote a poem. This means that either a) It's a pile of pants or b) Something else.....

Let me know.....

A Swallow Song Too Late

The sky is bright, the sky is clear
The day has come, it has drawn near
For as I recall, that summers day
When my world was turned and my dreams blew away

The doctor called and in I went
To listen with most intent
The sound I dreaded most to hear
Its cancer and terminal I’m afraid my dear
Looking out of the window the colours so clear
I didn’t accept the words through fear

Walking out of the door in his comforting arm
I was dazed and confused but felt so calm
I had expected to hear this, I made myself admit
But any of the outcomes would be better than this

In my house, telling the women I love
That she would have to go on without me as I will be above
Those last few months went so damned fast
I would not be able to see my daughter last
In school, university, work and career
And being a grandparent and holding them near

Well that was then and this is now
At my funeral you gather to see me how
I would like to be sent off without regret
Yet it would be not to smoke that first cigarette

Don’t let your minds ponder on me
As I am in heaven as we all will be
Looking down on you all and from afar
But knowing you yes you took my jaguar
My CD’s, my Playstation, put them all to use
Don’t hoard them and be obtuse
I see a smile and a tear as you all hear this
Remember I love you all and you will all be missed

[Dinkleberry2010]

I am going to be honest about this--what I mean by honest is that I'm going to give my opinion about the poem.

I like the ryhthm of your poem which you maintain for the most part, but the rhythm breaks down and you don't pick it back up.

I like the straightforward simple manner in which you write.

I think the last two stanzas do not fit. To an extent, it is like reading two different poems.

There is a suspension of disbelief which you maintain for most of the poem; but, again, it breaks down. To me, the poem becomes unbelievable when you state more or less that you are actually dead and you are communicating this poem after you have died. To me, that breaks the spell of the poem.