I always was a stickler for deadlines,
But, wait a minute, now I am not so sure.
Where on earth did this word come from?
I see lines of the dead wishing they were pure.
I guess it has nothing to do with the dead,
Using the word for another meaning instead,
As in drop dead beautiful or deadly wild,
And not stacks of dead bodies neatly piled.
Now on the horizon there is a clear deadline,
In the near future, announcing a clear byline.
Words engraved in stone: Rest in peace,
Once a living pound of flesh, hereby diseased.
Now I know every day could be my last,
I live every minute by holding it firmly fast.
Life is really like looking through a spyglass:
Thru one end, I see a distant road to surpass,
Thru the other, the end seems too up close,
Only a few words left, no need to be verbose.
In my pocket, I still have a few remaining chips;
I consider this last deadline just another of my trips.
WHETHER WE ARE CONSCIENTIOUS IN KEEPING DEADLINES OR NOT, NONE OF US WILL MISS THE...LAST ONE. WE WILL ALL BE ON TIME FOR THAT ONE, FOR SURE. THANKS JOHN, I REALLY DO ENJOY 'YOU' SO MUCH. THANK YOU. LOVE, BLESSINGS AND FAITH...JOYCE * HIS INSPIRATIONS
I always hated deadlines. Usually finished my work well before they came. Too many of my colleagues seem to think the only minute that counted was the last one.
Your poem is filled with wisdom and insight into how short our time is here and the ultimate deadline that we will all, eventually have to face. I believe on your last minutes you will still be writing beautiful words from your vast experience and ability.
While I work every day now toward the next goal, it does not matter whether I reach it or not. It's the activity that counts, and not the final outcome.
I like the forward and reverse views of the spyglass for the longer view. Time, however, foreshortens our perspective and forces a single view, sometimes to our peril. Still...
Charlie
Oh, how I would stress over a one cent discrepancy while an assistant accountant!!!! End of the month balances, etc.........DEADLINES!!!!
Why isn't there a word, aliveline??? Riddle me this!
Our demise is close at hand even though sturdy and healthy are we. It is all around us. The fortunate, such as I, live long enough that we are actually facing death in the face. We begin to try and analyze it, but it can’t be put in a jar and watched. Every morning when we awake puts a smile on our face.
This collection of poetry addresses the nature of time, reflections on the natural world, the difficulty of loss,
contemporary social issues and gratitude for life.
From First Love to its destructive end and on to new beginnings, Mary Angela Nangini's poems explore the birth and death of a relationship. The powerful poems are presented in two parts with an introduction to her next book My Ontario Beautiful. (Th
Share
Print
Save
Follow
Yeah, I know that is corny!!
dan
Your poem is filled with wisdom and insight into how short our time is here and the ultimate deadline that we will all, eventually have to face. I believe on your last minutes you will still be writing beautiful words from your vast experience and ability.
While I work every day now toward the next goal, it does not matter whether I reach it or not. It's the activity that counts, and not the final outcome.
Ron
Charlie
Why isn't there a word, aliveline??? Riddle me this!
Love ya!
Jane
Our demise is close at hand even though sturdy and healthy are we. It is all around us. The fortunate, such as I, live long enough that we are actually facing death in the face. We begin to try and analyze it, but it can’t be put in a jar and watched. Every morning when we awake puts a smile on our face.