ANNIVERSARY
Posted: Sat Nov 02, 2013 8:56 pm
ANNIVERSARY
I sit within these bare four walls and raise a glass to you
another year has passed and gone and I am older too.
I do not make a wish for therein lies futility.
I do not light the candles for none celebrate with me.
I do not count my blessings for look around and you’ll see,
my blessings disappeared with your Adieu.
The churchyard stones grow moss and lichen in the ringed shade
and faded blooms in old glass jars are everywhere displayed.
Eternal life is short, it’s one thing that can’t be bought,
yet daily we are striving for the answer. It is sought
to prolong life. But why? When we squander lives with wars fought –
despite the pious pleas of those who prayed.
I look with anguished eyes out through the windows soul-less pane
across the drying paddocks that are parched from lack of rain.
I hear the call of peacocks begging ‘Help’ from ancient Greeks.
One hundred eyes of Argus evermore his Hera seeks
but they are all long gone now and ‘tis only legend speaks,
though in my head I hear you call my name.
Maureen Clifford © The Scribbly Bark Poet
I sit within these bare four walls and raise a glass to you
another year has passed and gone and I am older too.
I do not make a wish for therein lies futility.
I do not light the candles for none celebrate with me.
I do not count my blessings for look around and you’ll see,
my blessings disappeared with your Adieu.
The churchyard stones grow moss and lichen in the ringed shade
and faded blooms in old glass jars are everywhere displayed.
Eternal life is short, it’s one thing that can’t be bought,
yet daily we are striving for the answer. It is sought
to prolong life. But why? When we squander lives with wars fought –
despite the pious pleas of those who prayed.
I look with anguished eyes out through the windows soul-less pane
across the drying paddocks that are parched from lack of rain.
I hear the call of peacocks begging ‘Help’ from ancient Greeks.
One hundred eyes of Argus evermore his Hera seeks
but they are all long gone now and ‘tis only legend speaks,
though in my head I hear you call my name.
Maureen Clifford © The Scribbly Bark Poet
