The RECLUSE

The RECLUSE

I am not a driven man
Consumed by purpose
I have ambled along life’s path
No particular aim in mind
I take no pride in not being assertive
For I have let life happen
Not forced its course
Little guidance have I sought
Or been offered
Little forethought have I given
I steered no path between the tides
To avoid the quicksands
Or to avoid being tempted by the Sirens’ wail
Gratefully
I was not confronted with
Scylla and Charybdis
I would have baulked with indecision
And without a philosophy
Religion no longer holding any sway with me
No politics to speak of
An indolent practitioner of life
Without imperative
Perhaps too conscious
Of everyone else’s point of view
For this no doubt I’ll pay a price
And when the final reckoning comes
They’ll say “He never cared”
But they will be wrong.
I cared too much to confront
My irresolution
And now I suffer for it.

SUICIDE ON A WHIM

‘River Liffey Inciden’t . . . Pen & Wash . . . WHB – 1994

SUICIDE ON A WHIM

Suicide on a whim
is not unheard of
but few such perpetrators
live to tell the tale

one such
rescued from his indecision
by the Gardai
lived through his trauma
sweet Liffey run softly
while I tell the story

distraught by his
gambling debts
and the drinking
his only way to a conclusion
seemed to him to be
voluntary
self-inflicted
euthanasia
yes
he thought
that he wanted to die
half-determined
part irresolute

in a single moment of wavering
he had jumped
just fell perhaps
but the fear
and the cold water
soon hit him
hit harder
than the twenty foot drop

an instinctive cry
escaped him
you could call it
a change of mind
his cry for help
was a second thought
an unintended consequence
of his half-hearted conviction

and now he was held
grasped in a rescue bid

but did he wish to be salvaged
to be pleaded with
would that bring him
the closure he craved
attention unwanted

but secured
attention secured
but unwanted

and still
he could not let go
the ladder
his passport to life
a life he did not desire
could he bear to go there
yet again
to continue
victim to more pain
to yet more anguish

but temporary chagrin
is no killer
his cri de coeur
answered
his indecision
thwarted

is it heads or tails
is it stay or go
is life’s hurt
greater than death’s pain
is future shame
worse than eternity’s
opprobrium

we will never know
the prognosis
I suspect
he is still amongst us
ever indecisive
a suitor for attention
defaulting on his debts
not stopping at three pints
one of life’s
protean chancers

Discernment

DISCERNMENT

Wisdom in making choices
The difference between success and failure
That or This
I fancy that
On a whim
Going by my hunch
Informed by research
by feeling
by preconceived idea
by suggestion
by prior study
or by experience. 
Always too many choices
Myriads of multiplicities
And all with no return from choices made

How to tell
Truth from falsehood
Heaven from Hell
Real from fake
I know them well
But how distinguish
When needs must
Worm from snake 
Ashes from dust
Success from failure 
Love from lust 
Doubt from certainty
Dependence from trust

But try as I must
My heart to trust
My beclouded eye
Can neither vilify nor verify
And while discernment strives
Doubt to dispel
My true self dithers
While confidence withers
And I am left
Indecisive
Of certainty bereft

Lustic Limerick #3

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A Limerick every other day
To keep my Covid Blues away …

When fickle Francesca decided to marry
She would not have Tom, Dick or Harry.
But she took up with Pete,,
Who she’d met through a tweet;
Then she married a singer called Barry.

The Farrago Choice

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It’s a farrago, a hotpotch,
Call it what you will;
Choosing never did attract me,
I am counting chickens still.

For lately I have lost all faith
In making a prudent choice;
I’ve given up decisions,
Conscious I’ve lost my voice.

It fell apart whilst doodling,
It lost its wobbly way;
I never could abide its cheek,
Its soul was out to play.

For when it comes to choosing
Between two guilty factions,
I’d rather plunge my head in sand,
Yield, then bemoan my inactions. 

Some may think this refers to my given right to vote in all elections . . .  They may be right!

A Critical Dither

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A Critical Dither

 

Here am I standing
Awaiting a YES
Are you still not sure?
I can’t bear the stress.

Love me or leave me
Make up your mind
My heart it is racing
It’s knotting my mind

This hoping and waiting
Is making me ill
You leave me here chewing
On life’s bitter pill

The tension is high
I’m poised for that word
Don’t keep me waiting
Please don’t be absurd

You should know by now
What the answer’s to be
When I first popped the question
You said you’d agree

It’ll just take a moment
A snippet of time
To join us together
In a union sublime

Please make up your mind
Or forever they’ll say
He was left at the altar
On his wedding day.

Cum Dubito Desisto

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WHEN IN DOUBT – DON’T!

The indecisive man
Never can.

Before he will try
He first must ask ‘Why?’

Will he win or maybe lose?
He hesitates to choose.

This is the the way to go, 
But then he thinks, ‘We’ll, NO!’

That way might be right,
But he is never sure quite.

So his ardour cools
And indecision rules.

All is shilly-shally;
Always a blind old alley.

As resolution stutters
His heartbeat trips and flutters.

Timid and forever fickle,
Always in a hopeless pickle.

Should he leave or should he go? 
Cum dubito desisto.