The Sweetest Songs Tell. A poem by Jim Hyde

Death is the sole of every footstep
it comes up in the dust, lies on the hills
is a haze to the distance.

Do not care, no animal does
keep on your run, every second a bright
unexpecting adventure.

Whatever words you have in your mouth
the feelings and thoughts that keep you
happy, down, occupied – so what.

Death is a traveller, Shelley’s ghost
in the sea; while you are well landlocked –
drowsed in the country, foxing city streets

with children in cars, laughing
spilling ice-cream.
Whatever death is –

you’re alive you’re alive you’re alive.


Jim Hyde is a member of Red House Poets, Lismore, Co Waterford. Has a poetry ‘sketchbook’ on Twitter.

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