My college roommate Michael Brill recently published a poem that interweaves heavily with T. S. Eliot’s poem, The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock.
You may want to read those two poems first, before moving on to mine. In case you do, here are the links.
T.S. Eliot’s poem: T.S. Eliot’s poem
And, here’s my reply, entitled As Mike’s Poem Itself Demonstrates
Your poem is more than mere allusion.
It’s really a cross-generational collusion:
TSE & Michael’s word convolution
Is artfully woven: two songs in fusion;
It sings in polyphonic illusion
Sans our mind’s favorite delusion:
That our lives will reach conclusion
Numbered like ancestors antediluvian.
That wish is truly a tainted infusion.
Yet our minds are limited; rife with confusion.
We’re one with all Life — in all its profusion.
When it comes to Life, there is no seclusion.
With time enough, there is no exclusion.
We’re all part of Life’s ongoing diffusion.
Death recycles its vast & vital suffusion.
Your poem is more than mere allusion.
It’s really a cross-generational collusion,
Proof that death itself — is just illusion.
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More about T. S. Elliot’s poem.
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Links to other poems of mine that touch on life and death
Fate and Late on the Interstate
Life is a Dance
Answers to your Many Questions
Who are the Speakers for the Dead?
Take a Glance – Join the Dance
How the Nightingale Learned to Sing
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petersironwood 