Alphabet For The Third Age

ALPHABET FOR THE THIRD AGE

A’s for arthritis; B’s the bad back
C’s the chest pains, perhaps cardiac?
D is for dental decay and decline
E is for eyesight; can’t read that top line!

F is for fissures and fluid retention
G is for gas (which I’d rather not mention)
H high blood pressure; I’d rather have low
I for incisions with scars you can show

J is for joints, out of socket, won’t mend
K is for knees that crack when they bend
L’s for libido; what happened to sex?
M is for memory; I forget what comes next

N is neuralgia, in nerves way down low
O is for osteo-; bones that don’t grow
P for prescriptions; I have quite a few
Just give me a pill and I’ll be good as new!

Q is for queasy; is it fatal or flu?
R is for reflux; one meal turns to two
S is for sleepless nights, counting my fears
T is for tinnitus – bells in my ears!

U is for urinary (troubles with flow)
V for vertigo, that’s – “dizzy” you know
W for worry ’bout what’s going ’round?
X is for X ray, and what might be found

Y for another year I’m left here behind
Z is for zest I still have – in my mind!
I’ve survived the symptoms and I’m still employed
Keeping twenty-six doctors all fully deployed!

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I just rediscovered this on my pc. I’d completely forgotten it, and where I found it. I certainly didn’t compose it. I wish. A Google search finds it all over the place, but no author for me to credit. You may have seen it before, but if not …

Weather Or Know

WEATHER OR KNOW

Hard rains sweep by
Rinse soiled streets clean
Brief respite though
Hark, the next deluge
Of turbid effluence
Generously gifted
By the thoughtless

Slumbering in simplicity
No fearful encounters
In radiant solitude
Wherein to acknowledge
Realisation’s spiky burdens
And consoling gifts
Onward, onward, comrades

To oblivion
And no beyond
Hooves strike faster now
Valley of death looms
Engorging black hole
Rolling thunder clap
Hard rains sweep by

No encore

A Bare Bones Affair

A BARE BONES AFFAIR

Hello
Thank you
Sorry
Goodbye

(Miss you)

Turn Your Back On Us

TURN YOUR BACK ON US

Turn your back on us
…..and find a girl for yourself, my little love;
Men are not fashioned to your gentleness
…..and I will never love you.

The Legend Of The Moon’s Reflection

THE LEGEND OF THE MOON’S REFLECTION

Deep in the Northern mountains’ silence
Once long ago
Far from the lands of men there lived a Prince
Cold as snow
All day long he would wander
Like a man possessed
As he went he would ponder
His life’s helplessness

Why it was that what he loved the most grew old and died
Why he found no place of rest however hard he tried
And he threw himself upon the mountainside
And knew himself to be alone and bitterly began to cry

And in his misery he saw
As if in a dream
That where his tears fell to the ground
There sprang forth a stream
And the stream fed a river
That flowed glad and free
From the hills to the lowlands
And so reached the sea

River and seawater
Flowing down together
Though the river ends
The sea lives on forever

And by means of this vision
The Prince was set free
And in his dying moments
At last he could see

Why it is that what we love the most must disappear
Where that place of rest is that is always free from fear
And he flowed into the river with his tears
And knew himself to be the sea without a knower or a seer

And if you gaze far out to sea at night
So they say
Sometimes you’ ll see his face shine in the moon
Far away
And the river still flows
From the hills to the plain
And the sea feeds the river
With drops from the rain

River and seawater
Flowing down together
Though the river ends
The sea lives on forever …

The Problem Of Pain

THE PROBLEM OF PAIN

Every once in a while
What some theologian called
“The Problem Of Pain”
Would arise

“Thus the universe balances itself”
Was the only comment
He was ever heard to utter
On the subject

And indeed many another

As if understanding anything
Grew from learning to describe it
In a more complicated way
Using more words

I Have Not Locked The Door

I HAVE NOT LOCKED THE DOOR

A prophet without a name
A patriot without a country
Lost in a dying church
Lost in a black prison
Spanish prison
Small yard to walk round and round
Dry throats of guitars
(This is a short poem
For those who have someone to return to)

When you really need to be close to someone
You do not dare go away and admit you have failed
That is why people sometimes spend the night together
And stay together forever
Until even the touch of another’s hand is empty
And you share things individually

Take a last grand look down the fire escape
In case you ever need to run away fast
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So … I decided, on reflection, to give a little background to this piece. Picture someone who is trapped in a relationship and is trying to give some advice to a good friend who is about to enter one. This is not written from a personal here-and-now perspective, but is not pure fantasy either. I simply wanted to capture some of the intimate, unspoken feelings from that point and moment in time. View it as a mental movie to enjoy (or otherwise, as desired); expand it to 90 minutes; make a movie; do it well enough and you could be talking Oscars. Selah.

Understanding Your Partner

Lines At 4 AM

LINES AT 4 AM

Surely the spring of passions now is past
Each flower, lasting less long than the last
Soon lies, a memory, beneath the trees
Its perfume drifting back along the breeze

I want you
I do not want you
I do not want to want you
My eyes do not water
As I just sit there
Gazing blankly
Across our
Drained
Empty
Cups

No

That
Feeling
That I felt
Was not real
Walking you home
Coldly calm in the cold
Or leaning silent as silences
Lengthened just waiting
Until you at last said
“Good night then”

We all change after all
We’re both a little older now
I am not so afraid of your indifference
That little wound you made in me
To be honest now is no worse
Than the one I made in you

And we’re still almost young
And there’s enough time remaining
For us to play, to laugh, to flirt
And maybe to try and love
Yes, we have lots of time
But we never give ourselves
Just quite enough sleep
To completely heal
Our little wounds

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Note: there is an Easter egg in this poem.