Sadness waits for each of us
and mugs us
when we do not expect it.
No protector can shield us
from its criminal behavior.
All fall victim sooner or later.
The best response to its pain
is to let it have its way,
knowing it will soon move on.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
1 comment:
Armadillo
Pick the barnacles from my hide
I now belong to no one
The burrow that I climbed inside
Has flooded like a snow cone
No longer can I rhapsodize
On zither or on drum
My larynx squeaks out mouse-size
Atonalities of the moon
What good I thought that I had done
Gave no comfort in return
I crumble into plates of dung
For I belong to no one
[Disposable Poem September 7, 2011]
Dr. Mike
Post a Comment