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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.


More about T. S. Elliot’s poem.


Links to other poems of mine that touch on life and death

The Bubble People


Fate and Late on the Interstate

Life is a Dance

Mothers Day

Answers to your Many Questions 

Who are the Speakers for the Dead?

Comes the Dawn

Good Morning

The Tree of Life

Take a Glance – Join the Dance

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing


Author Page on Amazon