I wrote about this poem and Bukowski’s poem and other things in this post. Take a look if interested.
I wrote this poem, a meditation about life, getting old, memories and more, one rainy afternoon. Now a visual poem, still improving my vide creation, as with everything in life, you do improve, it’s just seeing that, that’s hard - life throwing so much else in your way.
P.S. David Straung was/is my old pen name. Wrote a few crap things, many decades ago under it and decided to resurrect it.
And Now.
By David Straung
Days have come and gone,
I sit still - alone,
the TV flickers, the dog stretches
mothers rock their babies asleep
on a porch somewhere in
my yesteryear.
I am alive
as ever in my old age,
wide-eyed and waiting
to live even more
than this immensity, I’m given.
I wish I could wake this world up
yet I can’t find the high notes
and the trees outside
laugh at me,
moving around in their stationary way
content in the late afternoon sun.
I’ve nothing to say
to death that steals
from my mind’s
open pocket,
a death I face with all
the strength of the people
alive in my memories.
Oh, I once was too busy
to have memories
but I’m younger than that now.
And Now