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My Time Isn’t Up, Friends

My Time Isn’t Up, Friends

As I stand at the end of the cliff,
A breeze slaps my face
It says,
What in hell are you thinking?
Your time is up,
Jump off the cliff
Your life’s end, tis!

Then a hurricane came
It asked of me
Should you need a greater force?
Just ask me,
It also passed away

There I stood in the midst
Of the universe
Undecided which way
I turned my back
To the call of death
To myself I did say,
Oh! Hell to you all
life‘s given a single chance
Friends by the way
So I decided to stay.

I walked back
Into the realms of time
Leaving death momentarily
Far behind
So here I stand in judgement of you
My dear ones…

What was the crime that took me?
To the cliff can anyone just tell?
The bell does not toll
For me as yet
Return to you I shall,
To give all since time has yet to knell…

You my dearest friends wish me well
So I stay on earth and not in hell,
For life is given just for once
So let me continue to my story convey
As you all ask of me
I have decided to, finally stay.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 

Comments

You got alot of thinking strong going on in this one. Yes you stay and I will be back getting too late for crit but I did read and no more cliffs:)

Spirits of love to loved

Magics

at midnight
I did not expect
but your kind views
i gratefully accept

loved

author comment

so oft we all stand at the edge
of precipice of abrupt ledge
how easy to just step away
'tis the strong who turn away

liked your poem much better...............scribbler

i just read ur comment
as my poem was read
by new ISTAN

NKNOWN KNOWN AUTHOR

and so for our sake
from the hill that night
i ran
and a new life began
thanks to new ISTAN

loved

author comment

Time

Changes every two hourly
If you are ever confronted
With making a decision
Just spend some time away
And
the answer will become different
To the one you had taken,
If you then had taken
Remember this friend.

loved

author comment

Sound as an excellent message,
Not only for this

Self-styled bard

But for all humanity
May thy Lord, give
A better life
And
A more knowledgeable quill to thee

loved

author comment

Much has happened since you were gone considering. There is still so very much to do. Istan

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

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