A – G – M

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I met a dear old friend
Whose time I knew was fleeting;
He looked so frail and wan,
I asked how he was keeping.

He said he was ‘A-G-M‘,
A strange and quirky word,
In fact I thought it odd
And really quite absurd.

I asked him what he meant.
He said “Because I’m old,
And glad to be alive
I think you should be told …”

That I am still quite fit,
Not ready yet for disposal,
Still stepping out and free,
‘Above the Ground and Mobile.’

 

Memento

 

Chambord:  WHB – Pen & Wash

MEMENTO

 

What of me remains…
Persists when I have gone?

Take away my body
Deconstruct my presence
then rebuild an image
made only of memory
unique to each who knew me
no composite save each
biographed reflected anecdote

Save what I have created
those I have affected,
influenced, guided,
tainted I trust not,
as parent, teacher, associate,
as lover and as friend
as moderator and as judge
as poet and as peasant

Sic transit gloria mundi
And thus my light
in time
as light does
will fade from view

 

 

 

To Rhyme or Not to Rhyme?

I asked a question of my friend

It did not seem too hard.

I wished to know

What rhymes with word,

Hardly a question for the Bard.

He said he’d heard

Of nerd and turd,

And bird and curd and herd,

And even that rude French word merde

If I wished to be absurd.

I left him to his contemplation,

I could hardly ask for more.

Eight words were all that I could hope

Before he asked me what it’s for.

When I said I was averse

To omit a telling rhyme,

He said a verse was always worse

When forced into a line.

No doubt it’s true,

A poem is killed,

Its passion bled anew,

When thought proceeds without a nudge,

A kiss from me to you.

So, suitably dissuaded from

Forcing further rhyme,

I’ve downed my pen,

I don’t know when,

But, mouse among men,

I I’ll try again

… sometime.