The hinges of
the legs
linking the
calf to the thigh
Silently carrying
the weight
of the body
up and down
stairs
running and
climbing
Unnoticed
when pain-free
So easily
damaged in sports
Wearing achingly
in old age
Novelist Online Onpaper offers my thoughts on writing, reading and publishing--and sometimes the world--at the very least on the first of each month and more often by whim. Periodically, I will review novels from the present and the past, published online or on paper. Hopefully, I won't rain on any novelist, especially those seeking their audience without the help of traditional publishers. My novels are available via Kindle, Amazon and Smashwords through my webpage: www.kennethccrowe.com
The hinges of
the legs
linking the
calf to the thigh
Silently carrying
the weight
of the body
up and down
stairs
running and
climbing
Unnoticed
when pain-free
So easily
damaged in sports
Wearing achingly
in old age
Continuing to live, while waiting to die
seeing how the world has gone awry
through online versions of news
and the smorgasbord of YouTube views
But every day brings me pleasure
via novels and films, I treasure
At dinner every single night
I enjoy a gourmet delight
In bed, I sleep sometimes
deep or in waking creep
My dreams are full of rhymes
in waking I am unable to keep
Everyone loves a nurse
They are caring
They are kind
They listen
Alex Pretti was a nurse
He has been added
to the lore of the nurse
as a martyr
Like a nurse rushing to aid
a patient in distress,
he sought to protect
a woman knocked down
by a masked Trump agent
in Minneapolis
Alex stepped between the victim
and her attacker
He was thrown to the ground,
surrounded by Trump thugs,
beaten on the head,
pressed into a helpless position
on his knees, shot in the back,
a prelude to nine more bullets
pumped into his prone body
Alex was a nurse
Desire for
romance
and new
experiences
brought
what was wanted
The romance
was lovely
while it
lasted
New
experiences came
and faded
The
pleasures thinned
The
memories remained
CONSIDERING
DEATH
When my
body cries out
in endless pain
or thinking
begins to fade
from a
crumbling brain,
can I plunge
into the Styx
or must I wait
for God
to provide a
terminal fix
Thomas More
wrote in UTOPIA: (1516) that a person afflicted with disease can "free
himself from this bitter life…since by death he will put an end not to
enjoyment but to torture… it will be
a pious and holy action".
Could there
have been another
equally as captivating
for my life
as you
Perhaps,
but I’ll never know
since we
were bound together
forever
by an indefinable
potion:
Our love