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A Poem for Boomers. "Do Not Go Gentle that Good Night"

submitted by Puller_of_Noses to poetry 15 hoursMay 7, 2025 02:38:00 ago (+8/-0)     (poetry)

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.


8 comments block

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[ - ] Consensus_Reality 2 points 8 hoursMay 7, 2025 09:46:10 ago (+2/-0)

Death is a reminder that your life is mostly wasted on bullshit.

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
Fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way.
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way.

Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain.
You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today.
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you.
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun.

So you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it's sinking
Racing around to come up behind you again.
The sun is the same in a relative way but you're older,
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death.

Every year is getting shorter never seem to find the time.
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way
The time is gone, the song is over,
Thought I'd something more to say.

—Time, Pink Floyd

[ - ] Sector2 0 points 3 hoursMay 7, 2025 15:11:26 ago (+0/-0)

That song will always be associated with purple microdot. '71 or '72?

But yeah, I found 10 years had got behind me, so I ran and won the race. Meh, then I went back to spending/wasting my time as I prefer. So what if I'm going to die relatively soon? This is how reality works. Pretending otherwise is pointless.

[ - ] JustALover 2 points 12 hoursMay 7, 2025 05:56:03 ago (+2/-0)

Day of the pillow.

Related to this, I was once together with this girl that fancied herself a poet, except her poems did not rhyme. It infuriated me no end that random collections of sentences were considered poetry.

Sex was good, though.

[ - ] Reunto 2 points 12 hoursMay 7, 2025 06:18:41 ago (+2/-0)

Prose

[ - ] Anus_Expander 1 point 11 hoursMay 7, 2025 06:37:37 ago (+1/-0)

I like the 'rage' part, but death comes as a friend to most older people.

[ - ] Puller_of_Noses [op] 1 point 15 hoursMay 7, 2025 02:42:42 ago (+1/-0)

Dylan Thomas. (couldn't edit post)

[ - ] Sector2 0 points 3 hoursMay 7, 2025 14:48:40 ago (+0/-0)

Sounds like the product of an excessively emotional person.

[ - ] paul_neri 0 points 13 hoursMay 7, 2025 04:46:53 ago (+0/-0)

"Rage, rage against the dying of the light.". Rubbish. Accept death when it's due.