Saturday, December 8, 2012

Sonnet 73 quack said the fish

a pause to clean the glass, like it matters
there is nothing in life that will succeed
watching the world collapse as it shatters
no wealth or fame I didn’t even breed
get sick have tests cut you open survive
and why am I chosen to have enough
while better folks die I can stay alive
have a roof and a meal and too much stuff
but there will be no lover or award
can no longer swim as the waters rise
there is no relief miss boring is bored
the strength is leaving my sagging old thighs
my art was always close but no cigar
let those more talented stock the bazaar

1 comment:

  1. hey,
    you took your shot.
    some worked, some not.
    if all hit it big,
    none would think it special.
    but you found your way to poetry.
    to me that counts as a victory.