This day is dross, it grows like moss and yet it goes a pitter-patter.
Why should I care, why should I dare, since it really doesn’t matter.
And yet, some say, I should care before I cast it all into the air, for the wind to take it where it will, this way or that without being still, for a moments grasp in desperation until it lands upon the station, of life lived, lost and left behind. Too much thought for this frail mind.
I am what I am, or I is what I is, as Popeye said, before he died upon his bed.
There really isn’t this or that or whatever else we think is this or that.
There is only what is, accept or not, not a damn thing upon which to hang our hat
Other than who we are and know down deep. And with that fact, I’ll rest in sleep.
Today was a day that I wish I never lived.
Today was a day that I was grateful to be alive.
Today was a day, unlike any other.
Today was just today, and for that I’m grateful.
Nothing bad happened amongst the mix.
Nothing upset me more than this.
It was a nothing day, amongst the rest.
For that I’m grateful, although that wavers, the judgement upon it all can’t be.
Today, it was….still just me.
I should feel guilty for being so selfish, I should be fraught!
Ha ha! But I’m not, because, to be able to reflect upon my lot from today or tomorrow or yesterday on how to be…reminds me that I am…just still me.
Today I saw into my past. Today I saw that it doesn’t last. Well, we do, but the memory doesn’t. It’s up to us to make it present. It is our choice you see, it really is up to you and me, to make of it what we will or won’t.
Today I saw into that past. I’m glad that it didn’t last. Well, I know that our memories wax and wane and can follow us willy-nilly upon the plane. But it is our choice you will see, it really is up to you and me, to make it what we will or what we don’t, and most won’t.
Today I saw into today. I’m glad for it, it’s here to stay. Well, I know it’s short and about to end, but that won’t stop me from hitting send, on that text to my closest friend, my love and dearest confidant, the one no one will know until the end. I’m good with that and so are they, and that’s all I have to say about stuff that’s personal, that tucks down deep into this arsenal, that lives this life that’s separate as the flowers be, that shows and gives us all their goodness and beauty.
This I see. Amen, this I see.
This space…life, as it grows dim, do I dare to let him in?
He has haunted me from my youth, since I awakened.
I was 8, a day which gives me fright. But I then saw there that life was IT.
This IT I’ve called it ever since. A blessing, one would or should suppose, but not for me all these years as I’ve posed.
Posed for what? To reach an age that today is defined from yesterday. I’m old.
We will, I hope, live much longer, but that doesn’t mean I’ll grow any stronger.
Rather, the clock defines us still. Will not, will wither, will it be it as it may.
Not to dismay, it is our plunder, our way upon this earth asunder.
As for me, I will stand up tall and take my fate, as much we all.
Slay me now or slay me yet, I take my odds on life’s sure bet, that we will know when to end the show and be as yet, another remembered.
So many of us are tired, with Covid and with life, especially if we are older. Perhaps it is the bell ring of our time in this form of being that we call Life, nearing its end? As for me, I welcome the great, the best of sleep ever. This life tires me. There is no ultimate solace, no here and now release from its daily grasp upon our souls. Nothing other than our sweet repose, asleep, in peace, forever.
To be able to see our end in such great light, surely brings us up to our lifelong fight, for this for that and the other thing. Time now, me thinks, to sing! It is not that which we have feared! Rather, I suspect, a thing to actually be revered.
As the fall blooms brighter and the days get shorter, so do I.
As the rains fall harder and the fair clouds flounder, so do I.
As the darkness veils the mourning loss of springs lost grandeur and summers sweetness amidst the rainbows fading glory, so do I.
There’s no way back upon this road. No U-turn to give delight. Instead it wanders through the darkest forest with a one way glory with a one way sign on a one way life…
So do I.
What is a poet?
A rhymer of words?
Or a mincer of the same?
Expressing what is? What was? What should be?
Perhaps, although I prefer the raw version.
Yes, the raw version, which is, of course, the freshest.
Whatever else follows after isn’t the freshest, although it should be, logically.
I prefer this!
He stops, amid the last chew of his most delicious spaghetti dinner, realizing…he has suddenly, finally, figured it all out, his meaning to life, his purpose for living!!! He takes a huge gasp of inspiration, chokes on the noodles…and dies.
Midsummer night, the birds alight….
Sunset’s now, I don’t know how, to express the thoughts yet so bright
The fields lay fallow but now aren’t shallow, they burst with life and little strife
Seedlings gone, now tall and strong, the sunflower leans and faces high
Cricket’s groan, upon their stones, frog’s all follow into the shallow
Bright moon waning, after such a showing
Too little that we’ll ever know
Not to matter, tomorrow is another day, that I say with crickets groaning, the frogs a croaking almost soaking in this and that and the other thing, another day for us to sing!