There’s much I can not do.
Or maybe won’t, one might say,
knowing there’s room in life
for both those two.
I’ve done a lot before,
answering the world’s cri de couer,
before the years crept on,
in a youth as pretty as the dawn,
those early days,
acting out the wild,
only lately becoming
this elderly child.
So, yes, I guess,
it’s more that I won’t even if I can,
simply trying to be
a gentler man.
In the continuum,
from infinite to finite,
to form from light,
from energy to matter,
to human from Divine,
is there a place along the line,
where each begins or ends,
a clue the route portends,
as we blindly drift,
a nexus where we shift?
Perhaps, but it’s unknown,
the heaven we have sewn,
the place we ourselves create,
this thing we call our fate,
where with Spirit we co-create our place,
between ourselves and God’s grand grace.
I prepared my body for the test,
the one where they would squeeze my breast,
apologizing for fear, discomfort, and the rest,
assured it would be for the best.
Yes, a little angst within my mind,
yet sure the nurse and doctor would be kind,
confident of positivity in my soul,
projecting certainty, that’s how I roll.
So let me now my report conclude,
There was never a need to brood,
nor foolishly to self-delude.
I put myself at total ease,
denying the existence of disease,
surfaced my favorite happy dude,
the one with an attitude
of graceful, confident gratitude,
rewarded on this photographic day
with results of yes!, hip hip hooray!
Snow
The only snow I see is on tv.
Shoveling for me is just old hat,
and that’s the way it ought to be.
The only snow I see is on tv,
a fact that truly pleases me.
I plan to always keep it like that.
The only snow I see is on tv.
Shoveling for me is just old hat.
PoeticBloomings2 is a wonderful place to read and post poetry. Today marks our 300th prompt at that site, and, like the initial prompt, we write of seeds.
My words are like seeds I send to you. Feel free to scatter them where they might do some good. Even when I struggle to believe it, I hope for it to be so.
Plantings
Spring’s flowers faded,
summer blooms still aborning.
Seedlings need water.
Red flowers open,
pomegranates in waiting.
We must make sun tea.
Pink roses whisper.
Bougainvillas scream color.
Pastels will enchant.
Epi’s bloomed briefly,
cactus flowers much the same.
I must call my Friends.
http://www.daniellivingpoet.blogspot.com
Last week, Smokey the Bear turned 76. Tomorrow, I join him. So, I got to thinking...
Things I can no longer do, be, or have:
- Pearly white teeth
- Yogi flexibility
- Easy 10-day weight loss
- 50-year goals
- Excellent hearing
- Perfect vision
- Lovely skin
- Perfect memory
- Eat my whole dinner
Things I can do even better:
- Be calm
- Be loving
- Be patient
- Be wise
- Be learning
- Be comfortable
- Be understanding
- Be appreciative
- Be enthusiastic
- Be compassionate
- Be in touch
- Be a friend
- Be happy!
