posterity (Remove filter)
Invest In Posterity
We invest ourselves
in our actions
for a dividend
of posterity.
Whomever we affect
carries us on
so that we do not die.
We cannot be entirely
any one
when we owe so much
to so many
who themselves the same,
and we
in turn
more than ourselves
will be whomever we've supported
So hoarding all
is the only way
to end up with nothing.
Thursday 4th March 2021 7:50 am
What Lies Beyond Truth?
Today's blog is a poem (well, two poems actually) where there are two versions of the poem and I have not yet been able to settle my feelings about which version 'wins'. I feel like there should stay two versions of it.
Version 1 – Personal
If Life will be what it has to be,
And Death will come when it comes,
And all the moments that I breathe
Happiness still is mine to give myself...
Wednesday 3rd February 2021 12:39 am
Time Could Last Forever
We live our lives together
Breathing the same air
Yet never help each other
It makes life hard to bear.
So much could be made better
In just a little time
And time could last forever
If we just use it right.
Saturday 26th December 2020 10:40 am
Hands Off That Snooze Button!
Arise, and walk along these streets,
breathe and partake of the dregs
of the mighty industrial age;
paint the colours of its appeal -
toxic fumes that light the path
to days only just imagined.
Parted lips bare wisdom,
shatter the silence that shackles;
within parched throat, sealed
sounds peal from the belfry -
tender whispers caress
each unknown orphaned hear...
Wednesday 26th December 2012 1:04 pm
Scarlet on Blue
`
Invisible but not voiceless,
This fire within me burning;
Fueled by things long since done;
Uncertain it would continue
And most certainly would one day end.
Resounding vermillion trains,
Travelling across frontier lands;
That began by fits and starts.
But this is just the beginning,
And most certainly is not the end.
Smearing the silence with my t...
Wednesday 2nd March 2011 12:54 pm
Musing on the Death of Poetry
`
when the clack of keyboards cease
and pages of unbound books
scattered by the indolent breeze
produce a melancholy dirge
think of all the unwritten words
that remain stillborn in the mind
much like the gilded pheasant
out of the snare and into the fire
`
Please make your response or comment on my profile page. Thank you.
Saturday 22nd January 2011 10:26 pm
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