Best Ruefully Poems

II

And did his rash actions give this prince
Cause, in moments of troubling quietude,                 
To ruefully ponder on all which could not
Be rewound?       ...

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Whenever my days seem long,
And all my tasks turn out wrong,
And I wish the things I had not said
And feels like turning over and play dead...
Ha, I sit down ruefully and I write.

When someone somewhere gets hurt,
When a lively flower bites the dust,
When somewhere someone's...

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transfixed
I stumble down
shifting halls of
my angst my
distress
a cold stale breath
stagnates and permeates
its doom
onto my essence.

beguiled
I entomb myself
in the moment
asphyxiating
flailing
clawing
grasping for
desperately
disintegrating walls.

abdicated
I capitulate to
the lair
that cold cavity
pit of dread
that
pool of tears
where my devotion
thrashes plangently.

interred
in the filth
of want
of need
of putrefying wonder
entombed within
every pore
every inch
of my desolation.

moribund
I turn...

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One of Life’s indisputable facts:
Government reserves the right to tax;
And tho’ they waste far more than they should,
It’s supposedly done “for the common good.”

Economists use the word “propensity,”
Just a fancy word for “odds”, you see:
The odds you’ll save, the odds you’ll spend,
And how many Tax...

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Let them say I was a simple, stubborn person,
hypersensative or insensative, a dispenser of partial justice,
a person of particular patience,

may those who encountered me in moments of bliss or blight,
in instances of charity, charisma or condemnation speak of me ruefully & beautifully,
some will surely say...

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I know of a river of more than average 
Sorts...
Meandering, when not dallying to maunder,
Between many differing contours 
And unruly contorts;
Where a privileged youth once
Happily sought -
Pursuing about his passions
In the traditional methods 
By which his better elders
Did most insist he was thereby taught.
Reinforced throughout...

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Kaleidoscopic leaf cover
shimmers in the September sun
casting shadowy and sunlit
shifting pools of darkness and light
on a multicolored graveyard.
Sweet decaying scents permeate
the early autumn environs
while yellow oxeye sunflowers
sway to an autumnal zephyr
that whispers enchanting verses
softly throughout the trees.
********
Never could a master artist
paint like a poet paints...

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O how
Ruefully I pine
For mi pueblito perdido,
What I wouldn’t give,
To be young again,
And happy as I was back then.

Maria, full of peace, 
Do you remember
Francis Albert softly keening
'O Amor Em Paz',
And other songs by Jobim,
Happy as you were back then?

O for
That wide-eyed
Impression of yours,
Paquita (la...

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O how 
Ruefully I pine
For a long lost 
Espanya,
What I wouldn't give,
To be young again...
And happy as I was back then...

Maria, 
full of peace 
Do you remember
Francis Albert
Sing songs of Tom Jobim 
That mournful afternoon...
Happy as you were back then...

O for 
that wide-eyed 
Impression of...

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"I've lived too long," he ruefully said
As I was moving him to his last home.
"A respectable man would be dead.
My life is an obese, timed-out tome."

Truth lived in the old man's words.
He had reached the doddering age.
His brain shrunk to bird-like size--
A pity, he was...

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‘did you hear it’, he asks me in a dream.


‘I haven’t stopped listening’, I say.


‘I wish I could hear it, just once’, he says with a pained smile.


‘the Ode to Joy moves me to tears’, I say.


‘I wish I could hear my sobs’, says Ludwig...

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Old barns, old folks and old wine - an unlikely trio upon which to muse,
But the analogies will become manifest as upon each I proffer my views.
Though the vicissitudes of life have taken their toll on each (that is very clear),
They tend to become more...

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New Year’s Day dawns bright and clear.
Expectant of an unused year,
We vow to break old habits.

Young or old, we all agree
Everything shall better be.
And as the new year begins,
Ruefully we count our sins,
Seeming to multiply like rabbits.

Down with the old, up with the new.
As Twenty-Twenty...

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I lie, 
on my large comfort bed.. 
counting seconds,
syncing my heartbeat,
with the tick of the great white clock,
above my head. 
What I'm thinking, 
even I do not know..
Clouds have formed on my thoughts...
Fogs have scathed my vision, 
hence, I cannot see beyond
the goose trail of...

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Enchanted by skylarks I surrender my time.
Day's sun unabated riveted me to broiling heat,
I stew in my skin. Every toxic thought
Pollutes my surface as is intended,
But corrodes and cankers their patron's heart.
The statue has a skin change too: skylark rest,
Merely superficial - smiles surfacing for...

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