‘Bucket-Kicking Musings’ and Other Poetry by Susan Jarvis Bryant

Bucket-Kicking Musings

“Let us live so that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry.”

—Mark Twain

When my mortal coil has shuffled off, I’ll not lie in the buff;
I’ll rock a chic sarcophagus in sequins, pearls ‘n stuff.
I’ll be looking bloody marvelous for one not up to snuff
when I tangle with the scythe of the Grim Reaper.

Perhaps a Viking longboat with its deftly dipping oars
will row me to Valhalla on a crest of music scores
as multitudes of mourners lament in keening roars
when I tangle with the scythe of the Grim Reaper.

Or maybe taxidermy is my post-existence grail;
I’ll be stuffed and coiffed and mounted; looking fit and hale—
out-dazzling the ten-point buck stuck near the curtain rail
when I tangle with the scythe of the Grim Reaper.

My newly urn-packed ashes could be blasted to the moon,
then tossed in space—the perfect place for ashes to be strewn
to bloom as stars right next to Mars in a luminous festoon
when I tangle with the scythe of the Grim Reaper.

Perchance my destination could be cryopreservation:
my frozen stiff cadaver awaiting osculation
(resuscitation by a prince a century from cessation)
when I tangle with the scythe of the Grim Reaper.

In exploring funeral options, I seem to be ignoring
my glum, humdrum existence is a catalyst for snoring—
I could be the only person who is notably less boring
when I tangle with the scythe of the Grim Reaper.

An Elegant Atheist’s Epitaph

Here rests the sartorial Minnie Finesse
clad in a hint-of-mint-green McQueen dress
with a tangerine trim on the collar and cuff,
and a twinkling tiara with rocks big enough
to purchase a palace on a tropical coast,
and to chink crystal flutes in a pink Champagne toast
to heaven on earth with the merriest laughter
(for Minnie dismissed there exists a hereafter).
She set stiff competition in casket couture;
it’s not often a coffin claims a frock connoisseur.
But this swanky cadaver has been dealt a cruel blow –
she lies dressed in her best with nowhere to go!

Susan Jarvis Bryant is a church secretary and poet whose homeland is Kent, England.  She is now an American citizen living on the coastal plains of Texas.  Susan has poetry published in the UK webzine, Lighten Up On Line, The Daily Mail, and Openings (anthologies of poems by Open University Poets).