The vibrant popinjay has gone.' The harlequin no more really
Spins in song.' The magic's now all in a can.' Younger female backers
Parry times looming advance plan..' The age'd icon takes his glances
Across the acres, of yearning souls in hopefull trances..Parody banners they lie.' beneath sultry skies.' Echo the effigy of the past, See it burned in the mans eyes.'
Actions Describe.' Writ large the irony of life.' Youth has
Flown.' All hail its ghost, Ronnie strums, the speakers hum.'
Geri-acrity...Fumbles combinations and with alacrity..' 0yet theres really not one chance.' No way back.' All I see is false hope.' Rod Stewart is a husk.' Not yet voiceless.' Nor danceless yet
Its the back end, of the romance.!
Four fast friends and I sailed away to war.
Our dreams were fresh, and we owned forever.
On Omaha beach a shell took Trevor.
His Spring life sap gushed on the stark seashore.
Joe’s gardens were the splendor of Summer.
Bright marigolds bloomed as his youthful kids.
One day a viper he woke from slumber,
Leaving a wife's love to life on the skids.
Autumn’s leafy mosaic graced the ricks
With eye-popping colors down to the cricks.
Ben went for a cheerful leaf crunching stroll
Heart failing, in woods he fell with a roll.
Winter memories parade back to view
Medal of Honor friends we bade adieux.
Shedding tears for things that cannot be passed,
Will and I are racing to finish last.
A hollow prayer for what cannot be:
A distant day when you, again, I see.
My empty heart yet yearns for you around
Though now you wear a devil’s crown.
Farewell my love, alas adieux, my queen
Eternity has come between.
After three decades and a kicking more,
I deem it glaring waste and blatant loss
To play sad part of second servile fiddle
In elite cadres agleam with ersatz gloss.
Whatever charged scrolls attuned to pelt
With loaded deterrents deft souls that try,
I now must with age's ever-tightening belt
Stand to trite spites and their swipes defy.
Despite your puffed plots sick to the brim,
Those smiling streaks quite honed to trim
Purest dreams spruced by endless hopes;
I must pull down your fog’s fettering ropes.
Your lusts-spitting spikes I'll at last shame,
And sink them beneath your gloomy mast;
None of your snaky snares again shall trap,
Nor any of your foiling fangs soil this name.
All your trussing tentacles I must bid adieu,
Now that I am at last wholly done with you!
birds tweeting in trees
preparing to warm places, flee
leaves, their signals be!
September 23, 2019
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