A Poet On Death Row

I may get the wrong type of reader interested in this new blog thanks to that title but not to matter, its a wonderful title, conjuring up such vivid images of both gentle worlds and rough. But titles isn't not what brings me here tonight. Death is, as usual.
You see I feel as if im sitting on death row. Well not sitting exactly, im wandering around my green fields in West Wales as free as the proverbial bird (or should that be lamb?) but I am also in the shadow of the valley of death. I realise we all are of course, most however do not think about it almost constantly. And most do not have drinking and dietry habits to rival mine. Habits which daily get me closer than most to the fabled reaper. (Im not complaining, im willing to pay that price.)
For so long have my thoughts been dipped into the inky wells of death that like death row inmates you sometimes read about, im actually used to it. The End when it comes wont really be frightening or daunting because I feel like ive been preparing for it for ages. (And I have.)


Just you and me kid

Obviously im not looking forward to it but dying is not the terrible ogre to me that it seems to be to others. I look at it like a field trip where I shall discover lots of strange, new creatures and hope the 'SNIP' which cuts my celestial cord from this world isn't too uncomfortable.
I could face a physician (or hanging judge) who had grim news with all the nonchalance of giving a blood sample. I almost expect it.