Poets’ Corner
Time
Slow down, old friend,
and wait for me.
I used to wait for you
(so long ago I scarce
remember when).
You were the laggard then,
while I squirmed at my desk,
imploringou to fly…
to ring the recess bell.
But you, old friend, your fat,
round, black-rimmed face
half-hid behind unfeeling hands,
stared down at me and gleefully
(or so it seemed) crept slowly by.
Slow down, old friend,
and wait for me!
I used to wait for you.
(So long ago I scarce
remember how)
I am the laggard now
and dawdle through my chores,
imploring you to slow your pace…
to let me catch my breath.
¢ To submit poetry for consideration for Poets’ Corner, drop it by our office at 520 E. Fourth; mail it to P.O. Box 920, Tonganoxie 66086; or e-mail it to editor John Taylor, jtaylor@theworldco.info. ¢ We’re interested in hearing from you.
But you, old friend, your thin,
square, gold-rimmedace
half-hid behind unfeeling hands,
stare up at me and gleefully
(or so it seems) rush me to death.
A lifetime I have trusted you
— it’s hard to comprehend —
Precious Time, you are not
and never were my friend.
The Game of Life
This game? It ain’t easy…
yep, winnin’ comes hard
and too many hits
leave you bitter and scarred.
But you’ve been asked to play
at the Big Guy’s request
so you line up again
and you give it your best.
You are cool in the huddle…
you make some good calls,
but the defense is tough
and you can’t move the ball.
You work hard and keep
dreamin’, hopin’ your name
will somehow end up
in Life’s Hall of Fame.
You cuss and you sweat…
you moan and you grunt
then you fumble the ball
as you drop back to punt.
As the season wears on
you stop praying to win
and just concentrate
on not fumbling again.
You win a few games
and you earn some respect;
the runnin’ game works
and your passes connect.
Now you’re thinkin’ again
of fortune and fame
and how life truly is
a wonderful game.
This game? It ain’t easy,
but you’ll pass the test
IF… win, lose or draw
you give it your best.