A Life
Looked at one way
It’s a game, throw the dice
How will they fall, befall
Random, no reason nor rhyme
But not all, for element of choice
Free will, have to admit
Here, there, crucially
Sometimes does have a part
To play
See it in review, backwards
Pattern emerging
There where this path
Person, partner, career
Fatherland, motherhood
Is chosen/ rejected, opting this way
Not that, road consequently
Not travelled
At the crossroads, full facts
Consequences unavailable to know
Just out of sight
Perhaps there’s a quagmire
Not oasis at all,
Land on a ladder or straight
Down the snake.
Throw the dice. How will they fall?
Perhaps they’ve been loaded
The odds stacked against you
Or fate’s on your side?
Call it a story, a sport, gambled chance
Sing in a poem, a song or a dance
Depict as a journey, high opera
Low budget froth,
In it to win it, or game for a laugh
Useless to wonder
Answers withheld
So whistle for comfort
Smack on a smile
One step, one day at a time, and
Right on down the road
Looked at one way
It’s a game, throw the dice
How will they fall, befall
Random, no reason nor rhyme
But not all, for element of choice
Free will, have to admit
Here, there, crucially
Sometimes does have a part
To play
See it in review, backwards
Pattern emerging
There where this path
Person, partner, career
Fatherland, motherhood
Is chosen/ rejected, opting this way
Not that, road consequently
Not travelled
At the crossroads, full facts
Consequences unavailable to know
Just out of sight
Perhaps there’s a quagmire
Not oasis at all,
Land on a ladder or straight
Down the snake.
Throw the dice. How will they fall?
Perhaps they’ve been loaded
The odds stacked against you
Or fate’s on your side?
Call it a story, a sport, gambled chance
Sing in a poem, a song or a dance
Depict as a journey, high opera
Low budget froth,
In it to win it, or game for a laugh
Useless to wonder
Answers withheld
So whistle for comfort
Smack on a smile
One step, one day at a time, and
Right on down the road
13th September 2009, Grenoble
Or perhaps it's a series of short stories? Some funny, some happy, some sad, and some with those horrible, modern, indeterminate endings that make you want to ask - is that all?
ReplyDeleteAnd perhaps unregarded fragments of early stories are buried in consciousness, thought insignificant, to emerge later shining with the brightness of glad significance or splinters of pain to be eased out and healed?
Just love this comment Jenny and it has given me much to think about. Yes I think I will take that short story analogy, it is very pleasing. And I especially like the idea of the buried jewels and /or splinters coming out later. We have had a few dialogues over previous poems- both yours and mine- in which themes to do with the invasion of the present by the future emerge. Must be to do with getting older I think. Plus I had just read 2 very different autobiographies when I wrote this poem.
ReplyDeleteI wrote a poem in school and my friends told me that i should
ReplyDeletebecome a poet, well i guess i can learn from the
best, you!!
Dearest Lily, your whole life is a poem, and a very beautiful one too. You are already a poet, that is for sure!
ReplyDeleteVery well said! I love how it so perfectly sums up my confusion about life. This one is going on my wall for sure!!!
ReplyDelete