We don't wake with a jolt anymore.
We just scrape across the floor
and look for our dignity,
rummaging in our pockets to see
if we can find any more.
We used to be urgent and aroar.
Now we're just simple and sore.
We used to strive - to be.
We don't wake with a jolt anymore.
We know we should be bold or
work to build scrapers that soar,
but we pass what we see,
cut out all roaring humanity.
We're all aft; there's no one fore.
We don't wake with a jolt anymore.
/ / /
This poem was written in response to Wordle 21 at The Sunday Whirl. I was inspired to write a rondeau by an article in the October issue of The Writer which I am currently reading on my nook.
Richard, I like you poem; and I understand your sentiments. I hope each of us awakes with jolt and finds dignity again. We have to....to survive.
ReplyDeleteMary, thank you. I agree... we have to - to survive.
ReplyDeleteRichard
I LOVE this poem so much. The only jolt is when I am dozing off and jerk back awake with a start. Hee hee.
ReplyDeleteSherry, thank you. I'm familiar with that kind of jolt too. It comes from falling asleep sitting up while reading.
ReplyDeleteRichard