Halfway

 

Half Dead;

          I sat up straight

          And stared ahead

          Unpublished fancies flitting on

          Like glow-worm trails

          Within my head…

Half Dead.

 

Half Crescent

          Moons of life

          In shaded pleasant

          Places, far from bright

          Distractions and illuminations,

          Waning, ever hesitant,

Half Crescent.

 

Half Dead;

          And ill and sick

          At heart I said,

          As thirty years like thirty suns

          Approach, disperse

          And burn, turn red…

Half Dead…..

 

David Lewis Paget

Author's Note

I dug this little piece out of the archives of 1973. A nice little self indulgent rant about the horror of turning thirty. As I'm now more than twice that age, I have to smile.

Reviews

[Melody P-]

this piece is wonderful*
I'd been caught up right from the get-go;)
very captivating and the rhythm smooth**
Great Write!

[jenbem]

the horror of turning thrity?!?!
I'm sure you feel much wiser now.
It's an interesting poem. The form is something I havent seen before but I really appreciate what it does, especially the end rhymes coinsiding with the end word leading off the stanza. It's different and new, evern if it was written in '73.

[BelieveInCelia]

I want to know how you feel now? :)
Looking back, I hope thirty wasn't so bad after all.
Celia