Upon occasion, I check to see who’s saying what and even found out that I was still registered. There seems to be little dialogue these days and what I’ve scanned is eminently predictable vis-à-vis the actors, most preaching to the choir, of course. I bowed out a long time ago…don’t remember exactly when but seems like 2011…after ultra-offending people and when the dear leader and NATO were “liberating/annihilating” Libya. As would be expected of a “doddering old fool,” as once described by a member (or at least something to that effect), I still ramble on in blogs and books, with no claim that either should see the light of day. In late 2011 came forth December in May & Other Stories and in 2012, Hymn Thoughts and Potholes & Other Poems. This year, Time Alone? & Other Poems and Twilight & Other Poems have made the scene. The current subject matter, of course, is highlighted by the on-again, off-again “liberation/annihilation” of Syria, not to mention the “time” ramblings of one quite long-in-the-tooth. Anyone with a huge amount of time to waste is invited to look at the title poems below of the two latter. I will not participate in any further way, so if by the remotest chance someone might be tempted to reply (or bait), fugeddaboutit and just be thankful that Antarctic Sea-Ice volume continued upward setting new records in August while Arctic volume was well above last year’s in August, thus guaranteeing Coney Island’s existence for another week or so and further pooh-poohing MGW. As for the dear leader, God help us all.
It is a fascinating thing to view,
The young will find it somewhat gruesome, too,
The older ones with curiosity,
The oldest just as fait accompli.
In other words, to watch is not to know,
To know is yet to watch and feel it grow
Into reversals of the normal flow
That makes it too opaque to finely show
The elements comprising final things –
The final things of which the knowing sings.
It is a fascinating thing to gain,
Though some would rather not the thing retain
Nor even yet be introduced to it,
Though either stance engages morbid wit.
It cannot be ignored – too obvious,
Though some might wish it so superfluous,
Its limits do not vary just by time,
At least by time, with that alone its rhyme,
Within its limits lies a life…or not…
Depends on who defines a life…or what.
Bright light inexorably diminished,
Warning of a thing soon to be finished
Though by no set parameters enhanced
But variant upon how circumstanced…
In short, to never be one size for all,
Yet quite contrarily casting a pall
On what in changing it not speculate
To lesser be…with dimness not relate.
Its outward cast screams enervation dire,
The loss of that which fullness must require,
Admission, then, that neither by desire
Nor by design can brightness it acquire –
Ah no…inevitable is its theme
As part of Nature…permanent in scheme,
It must ensue as night follows the day –
Indeed, it is their bridge…in Nature’s way.
The loss of brightness, yes…it must accept,
Expect it will less brightness intercept
As dimness multiplies to further fade
Perceptions perhaps wrongly made
When brightness was too paramount to cede
Acceptance of a lesser thing…decreed –
Indeed, as all light fades itself away,
In disappearing, it has had its day.