The last leaves fall down.
But his inscape is not bare.
Myriads of wild growths,
he’s pruned with shears.
His pupils blossom in the
distant desert too. But the
wind brings not only the
floral fragrance He’s a
lightship on the sea of
ignorance. His scarlet
desires lie frozen beneath
the moral cliff. Age and
efficiency aren’t always
correlative.Yet it’s time
for his funeral in service.
His knowledge will no
longer be ignited in the
classroom.That brass bell
will ring in his memory.
Retirement is foreign in
origin, unbecoming for his
indigenous passion. Robert
Frost’s two roads appear
again. He will make
another wise choice. To
retire to rest is to rust.
Dedicated to the protagonist in the poem, Mr.Sachidanandan T K.
First published in The Literary Hatchet.
Categories:
lightship, retirement,
Form: Free verse
Spread your cherries
be brave; when a man
calls you:
Do the right thing (but have your
Loaded 45 to hand)
Check first his credit;
Does he have lightship
Standing?
Is he a trader?…do terms
Apply?
As an inter-stellar prostitiute
Working for peace, you know
You will be protected
Do the right thing:
What else is there?
Let’s face it; you come
With the apartment.
Dulce est decorum est
(With apologies to Wilfred Owen)
Categories:
lightship, future,
Form: Free verse