The days of our leave-taking are now upon us
The record of our varied past there to scorn us
To rudely hurl the law of the orphan against us
Once prodigal always prodigal there upon us
What are we but drifters living a life of exile
Far from our true home passing time a while
Hoping to meet at the end of the line in style
Still able to bring to my lips a cautious smile
In counting many trips made around the sun
The grand total comes to nearly seventy-one
Voices now echo whose emotions clearly stun
A sound of waving angel wings I cannot shun
Time rushes by but there’s always plenty more
The hour glass soon emptying is what I abhor
As I lay dying, ready to expire on earth’s floor
I hope to witness the opening of the sun door
Some people never surrender even in defeat
Others quickly give up the ghost when beat
When you no longer care your life to repeat
That’s when you know that it’s time to retreat
Once I thought I knew it all and then some
Now I know at least that I ain’t plumb dumb
In life, I lost some things, others I have won
I hope to take a few more trips round the sun
WE HARDLY KNOW WHEN, WHERE OR HOW, FOR THE TIME OF OUR DEPARTURE HAS ALREADY BEEN SET IN STONE BY THE GREAT 'I AM'...SO WHY WORRY? WE CAN ONLY LIVE EACH DAY HE GIVES US, REVERENCING HIM AND TRYING, THE VERY BEST WE CAN, TO DO THE THINGS HE COULD HAVE US DO. THAT, FOR ME, IS IT. THANKS FOR SHARING. LOVE, BLESSINGS AND FAITH...JOYCE * HIS INSPIRATIONS
Robin Ouzman Hislop's poetry is certainly in dialogue with some of the key architects of the 'poetics of indeterminacy' – both the Modernist strands represented by the likes of Beckett and Stein, and the postmodernist strands represented, initially,
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Love ya!
Jane