What is our conversation now,
in this new world of self
where all our time and energy
just builds a cluttered shelf
for trophies that we give ourselves
and prizes we amass
to demonstrate a sense of worth?
It seems a little crass
to focus our attention in
so tight a frame and sphere,
while worrying our waking hours
that we might disappear
without that click-and-clack applause
from friends who use our name
to sell their own inventions,
in a never-ending game
of who said what and when to whom
and why should someone care.
We all pontificate and cast
our notions on the air,
expecting a contagious wind
to drop them here and there,
in pockets of sunlight and shade
where they will die, or grow;
and give us more to talk about,
or nothing. I don’t know.
Random Posts
- Poems that Changed my LifeUPDATED to include URLs for the poems (and man, that was a bit of work) Here’s my list of twenty or so (oh, how limiting), …
- Stop all the clocksStop all the clocks! The hours must halt their slow and steady marching on; let all lay fallow in default until this fickle mood is …
- Song within: a cyrch a chwtaThe human voice was made to sing; and to the dull roar of life, bring a force that grounds us in all things. From the …
- Poems that Changed my Life
Most Shared Posts
Recent Comments
- Irene on Some ancient affirmations
- Rekha on No More Sad Weepings of Regret
- Novena on Wake Up: sonetto rispetto
- John on On the Veranda: serenade
Blogroll