Feeling ancient

AncientAutumn 016


Some days start with difficulty the aching

of my bones through the night unrelenting

worries roam interrupting shallow sleep

these times invade the darkness of my peace.

Progressives dissolve into prancing parody

eyes no longer on the ball

no honesty just the need to win

there is no distinction here, no pride

voices reduced to a numbing incoherence

overused words and a worn out score.


Meanwhile the crying of the people

lie unheard echoing unanswered

there seems no shame in this bickering

dressing it up as something different.

Even a blind man could see or hear

something important, something vital

has been lost, has been forsaken.

And there is that unending emptiness

watching the dance of a prattling clown

and the gesticulations of a puppet mouthing

over rehearsed words and tired phrases

but who is who and which is which?


And so we are left with that odd echoing

a Welsh word “didoreth” comes to mind

I feel like closing the door on this silliness

but I worry for my children’s future

and all those children struggling out there

and they deserve so much better

something, someone far, far, better.

Than this. So we shall not be silent.