Poem: Passing

Catxman introduces, “This is an early attempt at the poetic form. Like a richly bodied Bordeaux wine, it must be sipped at to be appreciated. Like an empty track running field behind a high school, it begs a sprinter to try it out on for size. These are the tools of a well-worn life. Hang a hanger in your room and call it ready.”

. . . . . . . Note to myself: Discover more rhyme schemes. And study poetry more intently. You are flying by the seat of your pants too much. But these are good stabs in the dark. I feel the potentiality in each one. I only have to master what undergirds my world.

“It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light.” — Aristotle Onassis

“Passing”

A poem by Catxman

Electric fingers dance ethereal strings
Memories of better, silent things
And final ways are granted here
Passing in one and out another ear
Of all the passions I have found
There is not one I haven’t drowned

A majesty arises from the west
Chances are, it’s for the best
He sings a glorious finale
Which runs down this lonely alley
Mark the way, call the tunes
And read your fortune in all the runes

The coldest war is coming
Silent handwaves before silent running
When chosen fools are gathered close
To celebrate their greatest in a toast
A single wise man broods here
Passing in one and out another ear!

Tomorrow knows we’ll get better and better at poetry, making us embarrassed at our earlier efforts. The world of poems might well welcome us nonetheless, our screeds pinned to digital walls and printed out by admiring followers. It is this hope that keeps us going. So far, there is nightfall marching toward us and only the bonfires of thought will protect us.

Fin

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