I never could stand John Donne

22 02 2010

Epithalamions contrive to meet our measured needs

Saving us from what experience would never spare

Kitchen tables pushed aside to make room for the dancing

Only slide back into place as candlelight descends

To hollow men while prickly pears exhaust themselves upon

The futile efforts of the few remaining to the end

For there is just no life sans regrets,

I will fall and get up again

And addressing my elbow companion of choice

Find often enough the catch in my voice

And overcome lumps and the seizure of throat

To gloat over victory over my pride:

The vanquishing of the pretentious conception

That in my own mind lay the answers to questions,

Residing ’til found in the hole in my head

That never could shrink ’til I gave it redressing

Unsaddling hope of the burdensome truth

Of youth and its fancies and follies forsooth

Allows my reclining to stay in its place

And frees hope to see me anew in its face.

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