One comes to terms
With nocturnal sleep,
Be cause for concern
It stays as brief keep,
Of enduring sojourn
To enjoy its breadth,
Save in transient term
Be but a short death,
That has us come back
In a day breaking way,
Tho ne’er assured fact
Let wishful thought play,
Thus so for more than a day!
Spilling from the sky,
Snowflakes falling
On a dying autumn,
Means hide traces
To render fall faceless
In a snow blanket pall,
Hiding dead places
Of fall’s grey sprawl,
This season suffers
With architect of cold,
Be Jack Frost’s hold
Of long enduring nights,
Held winter’s white toll!
Years fading many
Three score plus ten,
When some then
Made feel too many,
Years not living
Aversely at rest,
Somewhat uncertain
Of laurels’ best,
Save idle giving
Wanted for naught
Held put to test,
Not waste what’s left
Though at times lax,
Thru forever days
Found in the past
Inspired by youth,
In then agile way
Did call for truth,
Hoped get it right
Before enduring dark,
Bids life its last night!
I want to laugh
In potions ample
That it should last,
To encourage
Thusly bold,
Fellow beings
Who’ve to learn
Be laughter
Feeds the soul,
And lessens thus
The morose pique
Of anxious matters,
Inciting as a must
The constant lifeline,
Of enduring laughter!
If you should look
Beneath the surface,
You’ll see likeness
Didst hardly fade,
Despite time past
Held so its shade,
Though failed spare
Held masquerade,
Altering whole
The sum’s façade,
While signs of ware,
Offers but a shadow
Of my enduring soul!
I can but seek
What did so pique
A mind to stray,
Thus which entreats
I quickly learn
Absence of nous,
And spare delay
For one wants find
A place infusive,
To compose lines
Of peerless words
In myriad waves,
That means tell
A story well,
Of enduring fit
Beyond the grave,
The while I ponder
Ought I admit,
At bay said mind
Be dolefully mine…
Hence till I find,
I’m made to live
This sorry state,
That set a mind
So far at bay,
Those many days
I’ve to exist
In wordless ways,
Concludes life be
No longer of my say! ode to all who write!
Poetry on a canapé 