Waking After Yeats

Old men often wake too late to recall

their long-sailed dreams. The brevity of youth,

that tomorrow that never came, in the fall

becomes the sorrow of an age-old truth --

Death is the constant companion of Life.

Time does not excuse the unadventurous

from the ravages of late-night atonement --

a day lost, is a day squandered, relinquish

of Eos’ per diem endowment …

Drifting asea, too afar from Fyfe,

Yeats’ silver-haired lament of stateless ships

sullenly tugs at the fraying cuffs of

my checkered past, so many fruitless daytrips --

reminding how skint I’ve been in paying for love …

 

Constantinople is a beach I’ll never breach --

Kassia’s dream will forever remain just out of reach.

 

Ater Yeats, ‘Sailing to Byzantium’

Ken e Bujold

 

Reviews

[Perdition]

Well, once again, awed and thrown to waves asunder...one be life the other alchemy of loss. Let me see if I can rap this up quickly..lol. You've said everything, and quite eloquent as always. To waste a second is to know the dagger comes to us later. These are the things they do not teach when young, but rather the things earned in the experience of life, and women come well to teach at times...sometimes brick walls do just as well. Hopefully, we pick up the stone and walk that hill or mile with a madman's yowl, Wonderful to read again your poetry~,

[Kelly Scheppers]

Your title snared my attention. Good reading as always. Glad I took the bait.