Home Is Happiness

Tag: Poetry

  • Regression

    I knew it all when I was eighteen
At thirty I had some doubts
Now middle-aged with teenage kids
The doubts are all that remain

  • Meditation

    Clear and open my mind I'm told
    But nature abhors a vacuum
    It refills faster than I can empty
    Flitting from thought to thought
    As I banish them one by one

    Grab a meditative thought
    A gurgling stream to fill the void
    But it won't remain without effort
    So I fill in the cracks and crevices
    With thoughts that defeat the purpose

    Meditation is deliberate boredom
    I don't know how to do that...
    I seemingly never really can
    Shut my mind to constant work
    Without falling asleep

  • What Remains

    At twenty-one my limber legs
    Could run without complaint,
    My creaking back was years away
    I was never tired or faint.

    But years of active vibrant use
    Have slowly robbed me blind,
    Of these mortal strengths and gifts
    Leaving memories behind.