I crumble papers
with last year’s resolutions
waived —
still waiting for re-cycling
(or to be left in parentheses)
like the bullet point un-
punctuated…
or poems partly written.
I once had promises to keep
but at least
I didn’t start to smoke.
Untitled (death by gun) by Felix Gonzales-Torres (fairuse)
Another little poem at the end of the year.
—
December 26, 2016
words and scribble.
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Proverbs 31:25 She is clothed with strength and dignity and she laughs without fear of the future.
Passion for writing ignites my soul's momentum
I like this outlook. “I didn’t do what I said I’d do. But at least I didn’t start doing even more bad things.”
Thanks, B. I’m suddenly feeling much better about the year. 😛
Yes, I agree. We need something to make us feel better.
love the justifiable ending
Allbest to you and those you love in this new year Björn.
like the bullet point un-
punctuated…
or poems partly written.
Such a great comparison and so lyrically worded. I so appreciate where this poem is coming from, right up to the bathos of the final line.
Yes, no matter what level of frustration we encounter, there’s always a positive to be found! Happy holidays!
Love this! Paper is such a wonderful metaphor
Really amazing to find yours just as mine was written.
but at least
I didn’t start to smoke.
One may not meet a major portion of the resolutions. At least there is something achieved!
Hank
Oh good!!!
I didn’t do resolutions in 2016
much love…
We should all be thankful that we didn’t start smoking. Last year called for harsh actions.
Never stops us from making fresh resolutions every year!! Happy new year to you Bjorn…looking forward to all your great poetry!
I fume occasionally.
Resolutions are for quitters. You must never be a quitter.
Loved the last line!
Brilliant as always Bjorn – and I’m glad you are the kind of bloke who doesn’t have the need to smoke!
We have books of notes in boxes and in drawers. Time closes their pages, year by year. These are the tasks we will tend to when we are old, when we have no need for the notes. And we will lovingly spend our dying afternoons, busy at this catalogue. For our children and their children’s children and all those eyes we hope will thrill at our legacy. But they will keep our books of notes in boxes and in drawers. Along with their own. And have time close the pages, year by year.
Loved this! Especially the last half of the poem. Sums it up quite nicely 🙂
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