Monday, October 18, 2010

Poetry Bus Strikes Twice In One Day

Post #two for today. Another poem - written from where I sit - on the edge. Written today and not recycled. Lemme back on the bus.

Out of the Ordinary

At my late age I'm sitting on the edge

A place where muses shy away

Times are lean for pens

But not for reaching out

To touch mortality

And test its wrinkles

Read the Obits

Average out the ages

Of the dearly departed

Sound worried don't I

Truth is I am not

I have silk enough for parachutes and

A very large box of band-aides

Standing by

Cynthia Ann Conciatu


Maureen Walsh said...

Really love this. Thank you

The Bug said...

Hmm - I think maybe I should stock up then. We have some bandaids, but no parachutes.

Dr. M has always figured that he would go early but I've never really worried about it. But now as we edge up (he's 51 this year) I eye him sideways - how is he looking these days?

Debby said...

HEY! I'm 53, Bug. I'm holding up dang well, FYI. Well, except for the saggy bits.

Beth Niquette said...

Ah, I LOVE this! Wonderful wonderful!

Argent said...

I like the spirit of this and I guess it never hurts to have bandaids and parachutes standing by.

Carolina Linthead said...

Agree with Argent. I do like this very much! Well done.

Peter Goulding said...

Ah steer away from those obits. You might end up reading your own name in there one day

Karen said...

Sitting on the edge, myself. Bandaids at the ready, but I definitely need the parachutes!

the watercats said...

hhmmm.. love the idea of parachute silks ;-)