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Entrails twisted by Regret’s Blade

When young he hid out in the shadows of life
only in shallowest waters he’d wade
Reluctant to engage Life’s beauty & strife
rarely testing whether would make the grade

Pedaled quietly head down
flaunted Life’s ‘how & why’
with a ‘look am busy!’ frown
hoping just to glide by …

His Earthly Welcome now overstayed
turned old, cold, bowed, slowed, frayed & staid
His entrails twisted by ‘regret’s blade’
The ‘grave digger’ fingers his spade

A geezer mildly fearful of Hades
long time now since in his modest heydays

 

 

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Before tomatoes sent flying

With aging it may prove opportune
willingly to depart the stage
with dignity to face our ‘high noon’
turn the age appropriate page?

Better renounce the charade
before boos & whistle
All performances shall fade
fidgety crowds bristle

Rather leaving still carried by cheers
spared humiliation, crying
if having been thrown out on our ears
midst rotten tomatoes flying

Step aside, pointless to feign
time to bring out the champagne!

+)
-high noon = here: facing something unavoidable if we aspire to some measure of courage & integrity; title of 1952 film

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Life’s precious china cracked

We grin while from all sides beset
gleaming gadgets stock-piling
slogging in usurious debt
but offers so beguiling!

When jokes rarely hilarious
what remains entertaining?
In crowds we fake gregarious
Clarity of thought waning

Jaded discouragement reigning
fizzled our aspirations
Interest, engagement feigning
parched by drought our flirtations

Energy too quickly drained
Events uninspiring
Faculties eerily strained
Even sleep turned tiring

Taste blandly the same most meals
Phone & computer hacked
Distracted by doltish deals
Life’s precious china cracked

So, would it not be overdue
to leave Life’s ‘silly season’
where way too much has gone askew
and instead pursue reason?

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No shelter from Life’s welter

Life, o so bright and carefree
when nibbling sweets dainty
at mannered afternoon tea
sipped with persons fainty

But when living shallowly
our yearnings end up quenched
leaving us stuck callowly
From Life’s game we’ll be benched

There is simply no shelter
from Life’s worries & welter

 

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All nonplus gush & fuss, not enough blush

Saving time only to see it squandered
on ‘easy come, easy go’ paths wandered?

Time rules in our enslaved existence
so we keep up the frantic fuss
traipsing the ‘path of least resistance’
and allowing it to own us

In ‘me first’ scuffles we collude
amidst unrelenting rush
Noses to multiple screens glued
Gush, much fuss. Not enough blush

So then why not let ‘mindful & slow’
rather than ’scurrying nonplussed’
prevail as the default way to go
chancing to let settle the dust?

Living at our own pace
let’s us wander with grace

 

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Leaves letting go

Sun rays still Summer tinted
amidst boisterous breeze
We peer at, through eyes squinted
cartwheeling grounded leaves

Letting go, sailing from trees
leaves piling up wilted
as cushy carpets cerise
yellow & brown quilted

Leaves losing grip, bailing
Naked branches wailing

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Bleat of verse effete

I do hear you, sure
but my ‘pastime’
silly, bit obscure
is quatrain rhyme

Perhaps corralled conceit
shuffling in dull dance?
Mere bleats from verse effete
in limping cadence?

Surely slight nuisance compared
to all that what you’ve been spared?

edited 07/14/24 0835

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Lions in defiance

In universe, who knows ‘created’
most human lives cold & cruel
precarious while inundated
by predators’ gnash, growl & drool

Human character malicious
too many a morsel wrenched
in tempers raging flagitious
out from pale fists tightly clenched

We’re contused in careening
searching Life for traction
Agonizing for meaning
detoured by distraction

If Life’s a ‘circus’
strive to be its lions
who in poked percuss
still roar in defiance

By vicious whips cracked
as raw welts burn
odds cruelly stacked
Still breathe to yearn

But never lose hope
with courage, flair
try changing the scope
Stare down despair:

Straighten from our serfly stance
from talk in abstraction
Embrace your life as romance
with steadfast exaction!

Human Life’s but a fleeting dash
til it ends in merciless crash

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Not another rainy day!

Forlorn, dark wet branches
stretch into gray sky
As morning advances
voices drawing nigh:

Not another rainy day!
Declared in thoughtless haste
a jilted overcast day
that we’re resigned to waste?

Let’s find a deeper way of gleaning
each day for its purpose & meaning!