Truths

Truths

I hope to have
written some truths.

Lies are so easy.
To pen

To be able
To record some truths
in the future !
That is difficult;

Lies are so obvious,
Not always cheap.

Easy, convenient,
Unexamined conclusions
Of the times.

Truths are not always so obvious.
Some take years
To ascertain
In the dark.
That’s why the best poets
Age, get so old,
With deep lines
in their foreheads,
or die so very young.
Some truths are never
to be,
cannot be,
known;
And only are present
in vague outlines,
In muted colours
Of the partly blind;
Only lightly,
Randomly,
Occasionally,
touched on.

Advertisements

Where to get: Free Verse in Useless Times

Just a little shameless self promotion : As you may or may not know, I have been working on publishing my first poetry book and it has now hit the “e-shelves” -“Free Verse in Useless Times”
I really hope you will buy and enjoy it –  the poetry in the collection been described by one reviewer as ” lovely and sometimes profound” it’s $3.99 US and if you do, please also consider leaving a review. Both would mean a lot to me. You can purchase it through iBooks, Indigo and Chapters Kobo or on Smashwords, the self-publishing site that I have used. Here are the links:
***Please feel free to pass this on to any family and any friends that you may think of that may enjoy contemporary poetry

Apple’s iBooks – https://itun.es/ca/X_5S_.l

Indigo/Chapters Kobo – https://www.chapters.indigo.ca/en-ca/books/free-verse-in-useless-times/9780995003309-item.html

Smashwords -https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/600267

Thanks for considering and again, best of the season and a very happy New Year!

Thank you for your support !

Peter

Life and Death Conversation

Life and Death Conversation

Looked into
his eyes
wide, bright,
alert and wise,
He said:
With this year
practically
all my friends
have passed,
And you know,
I’ve thought
often since then
to myself:
So
my friend
this
Is how people
Die.

I reach into my
trusted bag
of years
And pull out
all the proper
gems of knowledge,
All my little bits of
trial and error,
experience and faith,
my sweat and tears,
and yet
only now
is it that I know
that
this
is how people
Die.

I circumvent
the years
with common sense
And discipline,
efficient action
considered and
carefully applied.
It seems as if
I’ve lived
a million years,
and yet only now
is it
that I’ve learned
that
this
is
how people
Die.

I have learned
the love,
the comings,
and the goings
Of mother, wife,
and friend,
The joy and solace
of my arrows,
sons and daughters;
what it means
to truly
be alive,
And so I strive
on my own,
In

my own way,
always doing
more with less.
Yet it’s only now
that I know
that
this
is how people
Die .

And I know
inspired or not
by love or care,
there comes a time
when the artifice
of human effort
fails
and only
fate presides
above it all.
Only now
do I truly know
That
this
is how
people

Die.

Dinner Conversation With Self

Dinner Conversation  With Self

Sat down at my table
for a dinner for one .
Salmon on salad
water with lemon
done quickly
to catch an evening  flick.
Soon an elderly lady
with a white chin beard
and a head of grey hair
sat at a  table beside me .
Rotund body wrapped in red ,
complete with her imaginary friend ,
she never stopped talking
the whole time she was there .
“Charles proposed this
and mother she just disagreed ‘”
she said
and on she went all through her meal
of burger and frites ,
with a wavering thumb .
She only spoke  briefly
and ever so curtly
with the waitress ,
but in her head
the conversation
fluidly continued .
I thought to myself :
What’s less uncomfortable ?
This lady who leaves
nothing unsaid ,
or a diner next to me
eating  in deafening silence .
I’ll pick this lady I confided
secretly to myself,
and under my breath .
After finishing I waited
awhile  to make her feel
welcome and more at ease
then got up smiling  to leave .
There was a disappointment
marked on her face .
She was losing a
dining companion ,
but she never stopped talking
regardless .

Outside in a lobby cafe
I noticed another
elderly lady
was sleeping on
folded newspaper pillow,
her head flat on the table .
She was thin  pale, frail
but well dressed .
She was dreaming or dead .
A young coupled checked
to make sure
that she wasn’t ill or dead,
before I could get there .
Old age really sucks
I thought to myself
but being there alone
Is  without question
much  worse.

Tribute to Irving Layton

Image

Tribute to Irving Layton

Irving

Irving,
I just read your verse.
Where are you
composing now?
Your words remain
and echo on the page .
What fine voice,
and what fine mind,
and what a heart
worthy of a
pharaoh or a king .
That fine voice,
that fine mind,
and the passion
In your heart,
with all its’ many lovers,
resided in
an old age home,
in a mental haze,
In your final days .
I can only hope
you had a garden
In the sun
there .

From “Ruminations of the Dead” by PWChaltas