Ponderin’ and Wonderin’:
A Conversion with Self

the-thinker

At seventy-one, I’m hung
upon my ladder’s last rung,
With its many steps,
And the protruding doornails
of a door half hung,
Wonderin’ what more
in life I could’ve won,
 And why still try
to do something
 BIG
before I’m done?

Shouldn’t I presently
Commit to having fun?
Cease creating toil,
strife, ‘n’ strum?

Cease makin’ a mad dash —
My last dash left
to make s
omethin’ of myself?
Wouldn’t I now be better off
putting struggle on the shelf?

 And sure, I ponder:
I may still achieve anything
I’m willing to sacrifice for
;
But I can’t have everything–
The apple-pie metaphor,

The American dream,
And the gorgeous guy-next-door!
Though Positivists say
we can have everything our way–
And even more!

Great! Really?! I reply;
Let’s get real!
Though I’d try till I die,

Exerting effort till I fry,
I can only be sure of old age,
death, taxes, and the pill —
And drawing up my final will.

Yet, hope springs eternally,
on up ahead —

Lying in wait for me, still,
when I tumble abed;
And, as the sun sets overhead,
I continue to ponder …
and wonder …
wending my way up the hill …

Till suddenly I decide
pensive thoughts to kill,
And to take charge,
Get out of my head–
Change my thoughts,
Change my will,
Change my stead.

By choosing to be happy
And in the moment, instead,
I make all that’s positive,
pleasant, and good my Med
by treasuring the wonders,
and preserving the pleasures …
Nature’s bounteous blessings
that extend beyond measures–
An amazing, beauteous spread.

If we’re not busy livin’
We’re busy dyin’,

Guthrie and Dylan so aptly said.
Thus, I’m back in the saddle again,
Moving full speed ahead.
I’ve buried my worries
As though they were dead.

I won’t sweat the small things,
For as it’s been said,
All things are small things–
It’s all in our head–
Only fools walk around
Where angels won’t tread.

 2009–2018



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

busy livin’
We’re busy dyin’,

Woody Guthrie and
Bob Dylan so aptly said.
Thus, I’m back in the saddle again,
Movin’ ahead.
I’ve buried my worries
As though they were dead.
I won’t sweat the small things,
For as it’s been said,
“All things are small things.
It’s all in our head.
And only fools walk around
Where angels won’t tread.”

 2009/2017

 

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