A THEME EMERGES

A theme emerges in the poetry of an age

An age that we all must accept and hopefully

Go past. The theme’s not original; it resides

In creation. You’ve been born? Jolly hockey sticks.

Now you wait to die. The time in between is called

“Living”. It’s your choice. Grab this “Life” thing and 

squeeze it, drink your fill of it; sing drunken songs;

Luxuriate in it; fill it with love, laughter tears and torment

Or let it cruise by without you. That’s the recurrent theme

I see this in the poems of the poets I follow.

I’ll not embarrass you by name; you know who you are.

You might call this period the golden years, the end game

how-long-until-I-meet-eternity? Is it sad, despairing, despondent?

No, no and no! It’s exciting in an awe-inspiring way. Will History judge us?

Will it care? Will our contemporaries do likewise? Who cares?

The days are ours to fill, however, we choose, however we can

So come, fellow scribes of either gender; let us explore this wonder

Report what we find, feel, discover; revealationary all; all a source of wonder

I wonder what the hell happened?

To quote Jethro Tull

We’re too old to rock’n’roll

We’re too young to die

Peace brothers and sisters