A WILTING BRAIN

 

        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