Palm Pilot (poem) by Charles B. Neff on AuthorsDen

Palm Pilot
by Charles B. Neff → (All Poetry by Charles B. Neff)
Rated "G" by the Author.

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‘Palm Pilot’ is the sixth of eight poems that were written over many years, starting in a distressing period of my life and reaching – gradually, finally – new understanding. I didn’t plan the individual poems as a coherent collection and didn’t realize the story they told until I recently read through a number of older poems. Those poems felt like preludes to newer ones, revealing, in concert, what was really going on inside me. Though much occurred in my life before the first poem took shape, and though I am still very much alive, I call this collection: Lifecycle. At very least, it traverses the circular path of one of the most significant cycles in my life so far. A new poem will be added for each of the next two weeks. The previous poems in Lifecycle are: Half-Alive, Second Skin, First Guest , There are Times. and Dreamspeak.
Palm Pilot Who is that rushing through the airport Through the checkpoints, finding baggage? Who braves the crowds and the lockstep Along the concourse and at the gate? That once was me, my daily fare, My pace, my mood, my need for speed. I think I lived with half a brain, My horizon defined as here to there. I was meeting a need, I thought of me, As I rushed on to others’ bidding. Food and ideas I grabbed in passing, Quantity first, quality could wait. And I did it all, that I can say, With some success to prove my presence. But when it was done, I was strangely glad. I needed the rush more than it needed me. Stride on old self and keep me safe You know this place and what to do in it. I’ll lag and lumber and miss the cues Counting on you to get me through it. -Charles B. Neff

Reviewed by Lois Christensen

Reviewed on July 14, 2008

Rich in advice, rich in knowledge rich in truth, and finally rich in longing and hope.

Reviewed by Barbara Smith

Reviewed on July 8, 2008

Charles, sometimes we use our work as a crutch to get us through a day. Working ourselves into a dither in hopes of recognition. Never taking anytime for ourselves but always giving of ourselves and to our job & others for that feeling of satisfaction & recognition. A great write here Charles.

Reviewed by John Flanagan

Reviewed on July 4, 2008

Beautiful reflections here, real and meaningful. I like this very much.
John

Reviewed by Gene Williamson

Ah, the beauty of talking to your self in poetry. And good poetry.
I'm betting that your old self will definitely get you through it.
-gene.