I don’t want to fade into the pastel sunset
in Vero Beach with Barry Manilow
playing softly in the background.
I don’t want to look like Dick Clark, Ronald Reagan
or even Liz Taylor.
I don’t want to walk my two miles every day
at the mall with all the usual suspects
in the Golden Age Club.
I don’t want to circle the wagons and get all
my ducks and IRA’s in a row to defend me
against the ravages of uncertainty.
I don’t want to spend my whole life erecting
a Star Wars Defensive Shield to protect me
from death.
No, I want to let my whole body age and weather
like an old tobacco barn — showing the blistering
summer heat of loving, and the gray winters
of grief in every board.
I want to load my pen, paper and poems
into a rucksack and spend the day
tramping the open roads.
I want to fan my tiny spark of existence into a blazing
campfire under the blind night sky.
I want never to rage against the dying of the light,
but instead, become a dancer in the darkness.
I want to live every day with my arms outstretched
and nailed to the grain of experience, dying
each morning into the innocence of dawn.
Love all these poems Joe, especially the last line in this one…!
Karen,
Thanks for the response. It’s always great to find out what lines and images resonate.
Hope to see you sometime here at the Hollow.
Waves of blessing~~~~
Joe
Joe, This touches me to the very core of my being! Thank you for composing such beautiful words!