Thursday, July 16, 2009

Care, Hope, and Waste


No care is taken for it,
Though I should not say none is there.
Where I am, there is little hope, I mean.
For years already I have presumed
When I get into my car it will fail
Or when I get into bed it will fall,
Slats and all,
But most of this never happens.

No more do all my chairs
Collapse beneath me when I sit.
If I wait long enough, kill time till all but decay is past,
Such descent will obviously come to pass.
And though all the worry was always a waste,
It will at last be clear to anyone's recall
That I guessed right about the failure and the fall,
But there'll be no one to congratulate.


  1. You might have preferred "Care, Hope, And Wisdom", but things didn't work out that way. Nonetheless, this is the best short poem I've written in years, though that is not a disinterested opinion.

  2. Just gave you an award over at my blog...

  3. I do like that poem you posted.

  4. Well, that's good. I like to get my noggin polished if no one is in the mood to polish my knob instead! But I can see that you have too many recipients to award everyone a night in bed with a Hollywood comic. I'll live, I guess, even if not for long...

  5. Thought maybe you would; it is very carefully phrased. But, as usual, it is not perfect!


Abandon hope, all ye who enter here! (At least put on your socks and pants.)