On one of our trips to Ireland, my wife and I visited the burial site of my favorite poet, WB Yeats. The cryptic and provocative epitaph on his gravestone reads…
“Cast a cold Eye
on Life, on Death.
Horseman pass by”
Aside from these being the final words in his brilliant final poem, “Under Ben Bulben,” what was Yeats trying to convey by capturing these specific words so vividly on his marker?
I am embarrassed to admit how much time I have sent thinking about the meaning of it all… especially when taken as standalone words, absent the context of the poem.
But, in one of those musings, I came up with this short, bleak, perhaps nihilistic poem about my own sardonic thoughts on my (hopefully) future epitaph.
As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts and reactions in the Comments section below.
-PS Conway ☘ ☘ ☘
☘ ☘ ☘ ☘ ☘
blot of ink
when i am dead, bury me in a hole
where i can rot in that cute little plot
with a nifty view of the blighted rowan
a modest headstone as my granite crown
all hail his majesty the travesty
with a blot of ink as my epitaph
let teary-eyed mourners fester over
whatever the fuck it’s all meant to mean