Death peered in a time or two and leered at me. He saw me smugly domiciled in a house architecturally approved by the best critics of destiny's apparatus. Then, smiling pensively, if with tolerant condescension, he went his way. Death chose to wait; Death held his breath and winked at the serenity of my contemplations; winked at my droll spiritual caricatures so sternly modelled of biblical asbestos in defiance of his scythe. Death's sense of humor urged him to procrastinate while I hung pictured convictions on the walls of my studio. I sense Death's padded feet again and his gray smile. I must submit my art once more to the cold scrutiny of his black monocle. The totality of my egoistic daubing! Perhaps he will not look at it but will glare at me and wither me with blasting appraisal and say that my pictures have painted me, that my grotesque acceptability outweighs the chill restraint of Eternity's Connoisseur ... and that I am his to hang in the halls of perdition! I hope I have pleased him ... Death ... my Patron! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LOON ON FORRESTER'S POND by HAYDEN CARRUTH PLACE FOR A THIRD by ROBERT FROST A MAN'S VOCATION IS NOBODY'S BUSINESS by JAMES GALVIN PLEDGE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON WHEN I AM DEAD by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |