"incurred" poems
left my phone unlocked
on the taxi’s back seat,
won't be the last time
called it a few times
finally, the driver picked up
he had a fare immediately after mine,
and was now headed way downtown,
and would call later
when fate returned him nearer my office
and so it came to pass,
very shortly thereafter,
we met on the street,
he rolled down the window
and with the greatest smile of pleasure,
as if he had won the lottery
beaming,
handed me my phone
I had two $20's to cover any expense he might have incurred,
neatly folded in my hand
and offered it right up, right away;
but the driver repeatedly pushed my hand away
as I insisted,
saying:
*"No sir, no no, not necessary!
Allah sent me a fare
that took me soon back close to you, so,
no loss of time did I suffer,
so your offer is kindly unnecessary!"*
to which I replied,
*"exactly!
Allah sent you to me
so I could reward you!"*
and with an equally, beaming smile I continued,
*"our ride and meeting today,
together was pre-ordained it was*
Inshallah!" ^
something he could not dispute...
or my knowledge thereof and it’s
proper pronouncement,
nor
his amazement,
to disguise!
we parted ways
each believing,
each receiving,
a heavenly check plus,
each, credited with a mitzvah^^
on our
respective trip logs,
our humanly divine balance sheets,
kept by the
single
supreme taxi dispatcher
Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 1:33 PM UTC
Partly darkened and part in light
A time when the stars and sun shared the sky
Bear witness to two behemoths wielding might
Impending clash foreseen to go awry
Two trains of thoughts charging from opposite ends
Each bearing their own solid ideals
Their flags that flew with conflicting brands
Convictions they carry on beaten, weary wheels
Almost an eternity, the time is soon
Seconds lasted before they finally would meet
Feeling of dread like the cloud covered moon
With war cries of whistles, they would greet
No possible way that they could miss
War waged in steeled wills and forged metals
Anticipate the moment, their couplings would kiss
Unleashing a barrage of predestined reprisals
Sheer destruction as they ate into each other
All in tow haphazardly derailed
A clash made of brute strength and power
A result of when decisiveness had failed
All was motionless save for the light of day
The two lay dead; spent currencies in coal
Fire and smoke had emerged from the fray
Signifying that the two have met their goal
Their cargo now freed, engaging in petty skirmish
Lunging and wrestling as they fought for dominance
Determination to overwhelm; never to languish
Jousting fists fueled by pent-up vengeance
Almost at end this long drawn battle
Much like a storm to be patiently ridden out
When the last of the debris should settle
Then would be lifted the dusty veil of doubt
The sun has now risen revealing the aftermath
Shedding light on the devastation incurred
Dark thoughts possess the most potent of wraths
But nothing could beat the muscle of the written word
Looking back I've realised the harm I've caused
Found great solace in the dark words I've governed
Life still hurls; it can never be paused
Just dust yourself off for you're better off enlightened
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 5:14 AM UTC
The tears he wept came from the depths of his soul
Extreme anguish burning with fever
Tears flowing like great streams of liquid fire
One could feel but did not see there
The immense torment, which brought about his tears
And induced his fiery pain
We did not know or even begin to ask
Because we merely walked by, heads hung in shame
Each one of us, quickly passed right by him
Never said a single word
While pretending we could not feel his fevered pain
From the vast anguish he had incurred
All our hearts, could feel, the fever of his pain
From the tears we could not see
Because we were all too afraid to look into the eyes
We heard there weeping on the street
Aug 12, 2010
Aug 12, 2010 at 6:19 PM UTC
Almost made it to the state line.
I was headed your way
To give you a piece of my mind
Because I've got a whole hell of a lot to say.
I wanted to tell you
How much it hurt
When I finally knew
That all my hopes were shattered.
I wanted to scream
So very many things
About the pain I've endured
And the losses incurred.
I wanted you to feel
The shame and loss and guilt
I think should be forcing you to kneel
And beg for forgiveness.
But then I passed the sign
That changed Central to Mountain time,
And I realized I can't change your mind,
And the words on my lips died.
So turned my car around
And drove the 6 hours back to town
And home.
And when I'd relayed
What I had attempted today
To a couple of friends
I knew this was the start of the end
Of me giving you
Another thought,
Another chance,
Another moment of my time,
Another place in my life.
Do you know what they said
When I finished my story?
"Thank you for turning around.
Thank you for coming home."
And they're right, you know.
I am finally home.
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 3:53 PM UTC
It simmers inside like a *** set to boil, this roiling bubbling never ending restlessness. Like a rabbit in the forest, seeming content for a time, yet never letting down the guard. Always alert, always watching, always ready to run. Fight or flight a way of life, there is no life without this strife. Content to be and sit and relax, claw my eyes out like angry cats. Punching holes in walls with fists, and screaming into pillow fits. Drinking drowning all it out, for false release and sultry pout. Use them up and toss them out, not what you were talking about. You knew you needed something there, to make this life seem somewhat fair. Nothing going right at all, this anger eating feed it’s call. growing green monstrosity threatening lives all around me with negativity. Bringing darkness to the light the shadowed soul of fight or flight. The angry red and growing pain is searing every dried up vein. Till nothing left but this monster, blinded slave to all it’s incurred. Anger never served it's master, turns the tables shackles of disaster, and satisfaction never gained by feeding what it thirsts in vain this rain of destruction all around never makes a life abound. The monster growing stronger still will hunger more and never filled and feed it though you might and try it will never ends until you die.
Unless you take a sword of light and fight it with nobility and tell it truth and peace and love and right it with humility. It can be beat, it can be killed, it does not have to win. Surrender anger to the Lord, and turn back from your sin.
Jul 21, 2019
Jul 21, 2019 at 5:16 PM UTC
“Why seek the Living One among the dead?“
asked angels to a few who‘d watched the Lord
be crucified—His blood and life outpoured,
“He is not here! He‘s risen as He said!“
In days before these women wept in grief
as Jesus‘ lifeless body, wrapped in shroud,
lay buried, guarded, sealed from Paschal crowd,
but by God‘s plan entombment would be brief!
His slaying served full payment for the debt
incurred against Himself by mankind‘s sin.
His raising proved His sacrifice the win
to satisfy God‘s wrath, my debts forget!
Because Christ Jesus died but ever lives,
the sin of all who trust Him God forgives!
Apr 15, 2022
Apr 15, 2022 at 4:42 PM UTC
i always wanted to be
that girl
too brilliant to resist
too pretty to dis
that girl that stops traffic
walking down the street
that's the pretty girl, i wanted to be
and today i'm sure, that girl is me
but turns out
it ain't all it's cracked up to be
cause i've learned about her life
all her pain
all the abuse
how she'll never be a wife
how you smile to her face
while you stab her in the back
twisting as you push in the knife
i've watched her drag herself
across the coals for your love
beg for peace, like soaring doves
cry for relief as she crawls down the street
after your threw her out
like an out of date piece of meat
collectively flooding her world
all those tears that she's cried
all the disappointment that she's felt, for even having tried
i've watched her fade away
like that soul of hers that died
the day you showed her you'd never love her
for anything more, like her heart and mind
so she jumped from man to man
searching for the plug
to stop up that hole you dug
with rusty shovels and all your poisonous words
words so sharp they cut instantly deep
infecting her with your thoughts and beliefs
just so those physical benefits you'd reap
so you twist her thoughts of love and her worth
and deceive her and make her feel less than dirt
like the ground you walk on
cause you walked all over her
and your name's all over those scars she incurred
you wanna hold her close and tight
but only when it suits you right?
then pretend that you don't know her
this girl, she's been broken
by the thing she thought she wanted
she just wanted to be a pretty face
that anyone would notice
but a pretty face doesn't get you respect
it just got her used
he drew her in, and she loved him
so she let herself be abused
like a cloud covering the sky
she'd fake it just to get by
and she might just never try
again, to look her best
cause those days weren't her fondest
when you could treat her such a way
like the disposable pretty face of a women
that won't stand for it another day
so now when people to her say
"..you're such a pretty face.."
she can tell them all this story
and how unpretty it really is in this place
Dec 7, 2010
Dec 7, 2010 at 8:49 PM UTC
By accepting the terms of this agreement, you represent and warrant that you have the capacity to love.
Any similarity to a previous love is circumstantial; this love is not affiliated with other loves.
We assume no responsibility for for the shortcomings of prior loves;
we do, however, assume all responsibility for any loss, error, or communication failure incurred while in possession of this love.
It is, after all, love.
Love is available as is; no specific results are promised.
If you are at all unhappy, you are encouraged to return love.
If you find love to be damaged or defective, well, it's love.
Slight imperfections are to be expected, and add to the character of love.
Love may occasionally send you poems, letters, or declarations of its continuance. If you wish to opt out of this correspondence, you may cancel your account at any time.
The service may be temporarily unavailable from time to time; this may be due to maintenance, or periods of reflection. It in no way implies or forecasts termination of love, unless specifically stated so.
By accepting this agreement, you agree not to abuse love by acting in a manner inconsistent with the provisions listed above.
(please say yes)
Feb 9, 2011
Feb 9, 2011 at 2:19 PM UTC
Mahatma gnaws at World War hungers
Reincarnated forms of Wild West lungers
Spatially realigning to a kosher and beloved state
Krishna stands ignored, can’t help feeling irate
Walrus tusks dig into the carpenter’s brow
As an eight armed saint is revealed as a cow
Scriptures packed and rolled, exhaled in suspicion
Prophets praised for violence incurred, act of sedition
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 3:09 PM UTC
A simmering start-
Unjust behaviour
Or a broken heart.
Angry transformation.
Vindictive ambition.
Infernal condition.
Anguish and trauma.
All incurred.
Trespassed precinct.
Animal Instinct.
The wounded hath
The curse of Wrath.
Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 6:45 AM UTC
1679
Rather arid delight
If Contentment accrue
Make an abstemious Ecstasy
Not so good as joy—
But Rapture’s Expense
Must not be incurred
With a tomorrow knocking
And the Rent unpaid—
1.9k
I stand defeated in my virtue,
For the ones I cared for no longer care,
In my misery lies some satisfaction,
That they found, and with it, how to better fare.
I stand defeated in my beliefs,
For the ones I loved no longer love,
In my mourning lies some relief,
That they devour, like a mourning dove.
I stand defeated in my conduct,
For the ones that trusted no longer trust,
And in my loss lies some salvation,
That they incurred, and with it, friends rust.
I stand defeated as a man,
For my lover now, left betrayed,
And in my grief lies buried my love,
For her thoughts for me, forever mislaid.
I stand defeated with my feet buried,
For the ones, my dears, have gone afar,
And in my defeat lies the truth,
That they digressed, letting doubt ajar.
Sep 12, 2021
Sep 12, 2021 at 11:37 AM UTC
The moon can make your eyes burn
from its brightness.
God's Canopy of Grace.
A lot of a good thing often makes you ache
for more.
We examine simplicity,
Utter awe, incurred by a moment:
Driving into the nothingnight
The wind touching everything
Two hands growing old and familiar
Staying warm together
Trying not to destroy the stillness.
Along with fragments of the sky,
We
Fall,
Golden.
How is it, that the world has not stopped shimmering
since we saw the moon drench the flatland?
Your hand still in my hand
Your eyes blink, often
slowly.
As they close, I yearn for them
to open up to me once more,
and glimmer with the warmth
you've stored away inside your soul
just for me.
*Don't look away,
even if it burns.*
You speak love into the shadows
Lights, again above our heads.
I'm always dazzled by light when you're around.
We pray for things like peace,
and discover that God's been giving it, all along.
J. Alfred Prufrock had it wrong:
*The universe begs to be disturbed
By love like this.*
Letting the wind and moon
and the stillness press upon us.
We are infinite.
And a little dizzy.
Hope expands in our chests
So many birds scatter the sky.
We are Walton, Nebraska:
A normal surprise,
God's whispered secret about beauty
covered in the moonlight,
heard only by the wind
that pushed us together.
Feb 24, 2013
Feb 24, 2013 at 5:39 AM UTC
I write of wrath, of rage and anger,
And murderous thoughts towards my betrayers.
I write with vigor and blood-lust,
In violent tempests, if I must.
I write of the madness she incurred,
In piercing fury, my heart concurred,
For solid as a rock it shows,
And red with rage my aura glows.
I write of indifference, my violated
persona can take only so much hatred.
Await me filling my soul with black,
Dark things as though there was ever a lack.
I write of the tolerance I have left,
For a loving patience of me was bereft.
In faces around me, I wish them only death,
My thought: I wish not the same air in our breath.
I write of the fires of my flaming hate,
The lack of gall in the events of late.
I no longer know how to remain humane,
in a state where anger drives one insane.
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 8:01 AM UTC
There’s a noose around our necks to drive out feeling,
To **** the sweetest instincts planted deep within our souls.
It’s too hard to feel, it hurts too much, so **** it –
Replacing it with lust so that we think we are alive
But we have lost it.
I think therefore I am? So said that Greek man.
Someone could likewise reason that “I feel, therefore I am”
It’s a possible conjecture but the suffering incurred
Is overboard , impossible, I cannot cope with that.
I’ll take the substitute.
This lust gives me to think I’m feeling something,
Be it money lust, drink, drugs, or sexuality or things.
Somehow, though my ego escalates, I’m feeling grand,
But my relationships are failing, flawed, I cannot understand –
I’ll take the substitute.
I’m at the bottom of the pit. I’m on the outer.
The substitute has got me. I’m in isolated rink.
It’s living hell. My friends are gone, and everything is bad.
I cannot cope with this. I need some love. There’s none around.
I’ll take the substitute.
I’ll take the substitute.
I’ll take the substitute.
I’ll take the substitute.
This is hell.
God, where are You?
“I’m right here.”
“I took the substitute.”
"I know."
"It's finished me."
"I know."
"Help me."
“Will you take Me now?”
“I sure don’t want the substitute any more.”
“Will you take Me now?”
“Yes.”
“You believe Me now?”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe that I love you?”
“Yes”
“Do you understand, I did the substitution for you?”
“On the Cross?”
“That’s it.”
“I believe you.”
“Do you trust Me in all respects?”
“It’s either You or the other substitute?”
“It’s either Me or the other substitute.”
“I’d rather trust You.”
“Come then. I love you.
Walk with Me and I’ll restore your deeply broken heart.
You are My child. Draw ever closer, never to depart.
Revive yourself in Me. My Words will give you back your Life.
I’m your blood brother, at your back when problem scenes are rife.
My Spirit, Truth, empowers you in strife.”
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 10:21 PM UTC
Staring downward
Listening intently to the next curse
Intent on you
Wailing
Reverse peristalsis
Rugurgitation of a steel keg
Incurred by you
Swallowed
Eyes dilated
Fixed by an insatiable mind
Allowed by you
Clarity
Senses ******
Pharmaceutical entities flood the brain
I love you
Baby
May 13, 2010
May 13, 2010 at 8:46 PM UTC
She swallowed his words with ease,
allowing the harsh,
unpalatable words slip into her,
without any jarring to her senses.
She fears the day of lashing back,
from all the pain incurred.
A cycle unable to be broken;
Wish. Pray. Dream.
Everything you learn to do as a little girl,
a little child.
They were failing on her.
Not noticing one thing that
might make that difference,
faith.
Something she lacked all her life.
Faith in her wishes, prayers, dreams.
Faith that she can spit out his words,
blend them to grinds,
insignificant as they will always be.
She wasn’t strong,
pretending to not feel pain.
She wasn’t strong,
allowing those harsh, unpalatable words sit in her mind;
untouched,
creating a home for corruption,
wasting away her insides.
She turned towards faith.
Faith, allowing the harsh, unpalatable words
build up coal inside,
not hesitating to spark fire,
and lash his soul into frenzy.
Faith, making her
wishes, prayers, dreams
never fail again.
Faith,
bringing out strength she never knew she had.
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 1:30 PM UTC
harbouring virtuousity, curious to express
exhibiting, she firmly held the pen
to jot down the mystic emotion,
the exquisite dream
oblivious of the mounting stress
pouring
the dissipating words recklessly fading
confused up wit
unable to sought down, the oblivion of sleep
knew not what to indite
unable to contemplate the very dream
but thoughtfully only was such the fuddled sapidness
the psychic images ; a subtle dream
dreary eyes
thirstily awaited
till the very amnesia faded
for the sole muzzy feeling, this the only manifest
suffice the unenviable question
whence crept the feeling?
whence the love aviate?
where rested the answer?
sudden diaphanous streak
stroke sorely to the pounding wit
paralyzing her for the moment being
the sudden egest
whatever the persistent burden
gone
for now
them thoughts voyaged operosely
beyond the abyssal pupil now dwelt
the glamorous face, snowy heavenly dress..
the very words ; euphoric conversation
lasting gentle tepid touch
that had dourly crept and haunted
throughout the delusive night...
penned down
finally incurred
peace
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 1:32 PM UTC
how bad can a good girl get?
that really is the question.
; it always starts with the apathy. it quietly slips itself in, the same way that you don’t really notice the sun setting until suddenly you look up and the sky is almost black.
it sets into everything it touches like smoke to damp clothes or blood to a white bedsheet.
eyelids get heavier and exhales get deeper.
fingers and toes turning into sticks of chalk on a pavement; messy, incoherent patterns left in their wake; every little thing; the small talk, the feigned interest,
the reproachful gaze of worried friends and the number of hours taken to muster up the will required to go for a shower.
all of it, all of the time
wearing away at her chalk hands and feet; gradual erosion followed by the sharp snap as the pavement encounters a wall. dusty white remnants tell the stories of her efforts on the concrete.
like breakable stick of chalk in the hands of a child, it wore her down and down and away and away.
broken chalk; baring a striking resemblance to what may be incurred if a heap of bones were to be finely ground into a delicate powder.
and that is what the apathy feels like. like the process of gradual grinding and erosion until nothing is left.
; then comes the disassociation.
as in,
if my head starts to feel anymore spaced out will nasa try and recruit me for their next mission? as in,
did i just spend three hours making intense eye contact with the ceiling or did i imagine all of that?
it’s the hours spent wondering if they would love you more if your ribs and hip bones were threatening to burst their way through the skin, or, if really, you are as inherently unlovable as rain clouds in july.
vacant eyes and hollow words, almost doll-like. but at the same time not at all.
dolls are beautiful, adored;
useful.
it’s addictive,
feeling lost and empty i mean; if everything feels like it doesn’t really exist, and you haven’t showered in three days then do your obligations to the world still exist?
if my head isn’t here then what else actually remains?
but this is how you learned to survive, you learned to hold your own mind and dress your own wounds.
she’ll treat you the way she wants someone else to treat her; that’s why she always wants to make sure that you’re alright. because no one ever asked her.
and that, is how you know that it is getting bad again. but really none of it happens in that order or in steps; actually, it happens all at once, but isn’t that a lot harder to fit into a blank word document?
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 1:55 PM UTC
Net Present Value
**NPV can be described as the “difference amount” between the sums of discounted future inflows and outflows. It compares the present value of something today to the present value of that thing in the future, taking into account, "discounting" for inflation and returns into account.
Something now is more valuable than later on, because it can invested to make more.**
the value today of your self,
the future discounted for all
you have
yet to learn,
yet to earn,
the mistakes,
the losses,
yet to be incurred.
netting the modest successes
now past, of long ago,
against the sum of
too many failings as
father and son,
poet and man.
time is short now,
nearer to the end than
many streams of new inflows.
the discount rate:
looking in the mirror,
this presence,
this who I am,
the what I be,
adding in, subtracting out,
the inflation of dreams,
+ / -
the deflation of disappointments.
yet, compelled to do,
iterate daily,
the calculation of who,
never-ending,
continuously solving
for my own
net present value.
http://www.mathsisfun.com/money/net-present-value.html
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 5:46 AM UTC
I write still to show
The flaws I've corrected
Before I must go
Here's some I've perfected
I’m breakable bones
My weakness is real
You can crush them with stones
But my spirit is steel
I've howled depressions
With lone wolf confide
I've roared at oppressions
With lion king pride
I rose unforgiving
From indifferent graves
To haunt those unliving
As apathy's slaves
I council with silence
Keep quiet rapport
With deafening violence
Of thoughts waging war
I’m pop country's menace
Funk you profanity
Spit-venom vengeance
And breakdowns of sanity
I’ve sung innuendos
Love's chorus revised
By symphonic crescendos
Two beats harmonized
I’ll never stop trying
To save this blue sphere
Our mother is crying
Apocalypse tears
I move hyperactive
My sprinting brain sped
Beyond the distractive
Outrunning my dread
I’m tempests emerging
Typhoons kept at bay
And now my storm surging
Will blow you away
I’ve fearlessly gazed
Upon Grim's complexion
The hell that was raised
Was just my reflection
I channel my hate
As my anger stream grows
Into rivers irate
Then tranquility flows
I form nations in clouds
Above law and border
No star-spangled shrouds
In my higher world order
I’m heat-seeker lines
Poetic napalms
Metaphor landmines
And ticking rhyme bombs
I've warped my perceptions
And force-choking grips
And Death Star conceptions
From jedi mind trips
And I’ll leave you assured
My defense will not yield
Until peace is ensured
And these wounds have all healed
Incurred as the ward
Of my muses concealed
Now commanding a horde
Of the furies revealed
I have severed accord
With the fates I have sealed
I've matured and endured
On this life battlefield
With this pen as my sword
And this pain as my shield
For I am the lord
Of the words that I wield
Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 1:31 AM UTC
It seems these antihistamines
Are causing reoccurring dreams
For every time I go to bed
The same old scene is in my head
Like the one where all my teeth fall out
As I sit and pluck them out of my mouth
This one causes a lot of strife
For I've had this dream my entire life
So I searched for answers everywhere
And this is what they had to share
The native said it signifies
Remorse I feel from telling lies
Which I guess would be appropriate
I tend to say things I regret
So I went to see a medium
To trace back where this all begun
We tried to get mister Jung
But as the Latin rolled off her tongue
To our surprise
Before our eyes
Stood the spirit of Sigmund Freud
Claiming I need *** to fill the void
A conversation I'd rather avoid
Needless to say we ended the spell
I gave her my paycheck and bid farewell
And as I exited out to the street
I almost hung my head in defeat
But the natives words came back to me
Bringing a sudden epiphany
It occurred to me as I was walking
I really need to just stop talking.
Perhaps I'll be a silent monk
To help me get out of this funk
But that just sounds absurd
I can figure out how this problem incurred
I don't need to see a therapist
Or invoke a psychoanalyst
I will just continue on my quest
Until I obtain some dreamless rest
I'm sure I can find the connection
By immersing in more self-reflection
So when I go to bed tonight
I'll study my dreams with all my might!!
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 4:46 PM UTC
This path, overgrown with briar and brambles,
Thorns and nettles strewn in disarray;
A loathsome path of broken dreams, and yet,
Willingly I walk it each day
This path that hurts not the feet, but the heart,
Where roiling streams overflow their banks,
And burning cinders comingle with ice --
An affirmation of Life's cruel pranks!
What is it that prompts my unwavering steps?
The love that greets me at journey's end!
The ghost of a love lost so long ago
Leaps boundaries only love can transcend
What pain I endure to savor love's bliss!
On this path, blazed by temerity,
I fly past the graveyard of ill-fated dreams
To a love that defies mortality
How weary I've grown trying to understand
Why such perfect love incurred God's wrath;
And now all that's left are the memories
That await me at the end of this path
Jun 28, 2023
Jun 28, 2023 at 1:17 PM UTC
You had a black cat and a tiger cub
Equal in size, equal in ferocity.
All silk fur and knife teeth- you said they were just playing
But they bit and scratched only me.
Scars incurred were real.
You experimented, scientifically, with my childhood belongings
In the back of our broken down truck.
You didn't know they were mine.
We played chess, us and another
Someone unimportant enough to forget, I suppose
Since I already have.
There was a scandalous edge to it.
Something dark, dangerous. Exciting.
You made me a promise when you took my queen.
I couldn't quite understand what it was.
Later you played basketball, alone in the dark
You car headlights providing the only stars.
I followed you
Found you playing horse, a sad game alone.
There was electricity in the air
Waiting to shock someone.
Waiting to shock us.
You were about to say something magnificent....
If only I could return.
If only I could hear you say it.
If only I could escape the felines for good.
Aug 11, 2010
Aug 11, 2010 at 8:05 AM UTC
I look back to when I retired
most of life till then perspired
put foot to rear and not get fired
incurred recurring tasks till tired.
Work every day, enduring each
for sixty five years to reach
a one in two chance beseech
one dozen left to enjoy the beach.
Though now there are long naps to take
avoiding chance lest body break
choke down pills and limit cake
extending time for old times' sake.
So retire thoughts that make you wait
make the leap, don't delay fate
take anew each day, each date
moment to savor, cherish, create!
Dec 11, 2018
Dec 11, 2018 at 11:56 AM UTC