Struggling for the
name
of the sweet singing bird,
my ever-wilting
brain
awaits
a sudden spark
of
minor memory
To every
man and woman,
this
form of mild dementia
cometh
soon or late,
becoming
ever worse
as
we wait at the gate
Like
Horatius of old,
I now
stand ready to fight,
wielding
a creative sword,
forged
of my poetry against
the darkening
of my light
Many
readers will recognize the influences of Thomas Babington MacAulay’s THE LAYS
OF ANCIENT ROME and Dylan Thomas’ DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT on this
poem.
A
suggestion: try my novel, THE JYNX,
on Kindle
