THE TRAVELLER
Posted: Wed Aug 14, 2013 11:19 am
THE TRAVELLER
Nothing lasts forever. Not life, not love, not looks
regardless of how hard we try. Despite what’s read in books.
There are no lifetime guarantees despite what people say,
for everything upon the earth is subject to decay.
Perhaps the best thing we can do is put our hopes in rhyme
the sad, and happy ones as well as those we think sublime.
And if a touch of vengeance is perhaps the thing that’s sought
one could even write a poem listing those darkest thoughts.
The sharp sting of one’s wit could be there – just waiting to tell
those lifelong secrets closely kept till our death breaks the spell.
But if the telling causes someone close to come undone
we’d be better off just keeping quiet – perhaps best keeping shtum.
In life there are no guarantees and death holds even fewer
we’re on this earth for a short while and of life we’re a viewer
of the beauty there before us, sandy beaches, sheltered bays.
It is there for our enjoyment but we can’t take it away.
The racecourse is a bit like life – a circle going round.
Some folk make the whole distance, others alas are found
to be wanting. They just drop out or fall along the way.
It’s a one way trip we’re taking – best enjoy it while we may.
The sharp end of the stick is that alas if life’s ambitions
come to nought – with dreams and plans never reaching fruition.
If we fumbled from the starting gate and never led the pack
at end of day it’s too late for regrets; no going back.
Since nothing lasts forever we should be the best we can
and hope we’ll be remembered kindly by our fellow man.
It’s nice to be important, more important to be nice
and one chance is all we’re getting – we won’t travel this road twice.
Maureen Clifford ©
Nothing lasts forever. Not life, not love, not looks
regardless of how hard we try. Despite what’s read in books.
There are no lifetime guarantees despite what people say,
for everything upon the earth is subject to decay.
Perhaps the best thing we can do is put our hopes in rhyme
the sad, and happy ones as well as those we think sublime.
And if a touch of vengeance is perhaps the thing that’s sought
one could even write a poem listing those darkest thoughts.
The sharp sting of one’s wit could be there – just waiting to tell
those lifelong secrets closely kept till our death breaks the spell.
But if the telling causes someone close to come undone
we’d be better off just keeping quiet – perhaps best keeping shtum.
In life there are no guarantees and death holds even fewer
we’re on this earth for a short while and of life we’re a viewer
of the beauty there before us, sandy beaches, sheltered bays.
It is there for our enjoyment but we can’t take it away.
The racecourse is a bit like life – a circle going round.
Some folk make the whole distance, others alas are found
to be wanting. They just drop out or fall along the way.
It’s a one way trip we’re taking – best enjoy it while we may.
The sharp end of the stick is that alas if life’s ambitions
come to nought – with dreams and plans never reaching fruition.
If we fumbled from the starting gate and never led the pack
at end of day it’s too late for regrets; no going back.
Since nothing lasts forever we should be the best we can
and hope we’ll be remembered kindly by our fellow man.
It’s nice to be important, more important to be nice
and one chance is all we’re getting – we won’t travel this road twice.
Maureen Clifford ©
