Old world wisdom, new world insight – poems, poetry, philosophy, dreams, commentary, ideas

No Metaphor it

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by Lawrence J. J. Leonard, 2008

Another regular day with
a sun in the sky, beaming through clouds. The west wind 
now blows through some tree branches nearby
and they strained with the wind’s heaviness. I did, too.

Then came a new feeling in my gut
thoroughly unlike the last hundred month’s.  
I think it wasn’t anxiety. 
Not the stress of making ends meet, not bills.

Something in this morning gust is making me tremble.
Smell of coffee
sorely missing from this unique day.
Something eminent is about to materialize. Now the chills.

Autumn flu and its companion symptoms –
aches and pains in the joints?   No, air – hot and humid –
streaming through my scheduled walk.
Abruptly. I wondered if I remembered my own name!  I did, too.

This current is bothering my head.  It is
thematic, with sharp and dull pain coming on simultaneously.
Thunderstruck, I look down and notice
thirteen patterns in my jeans from years of labor, sweat and spills.

‘Working for a living at a steady job molds character, son.’
What did Harry know?
Why, this same breeze and sun and clouds challenged him
woefully for 35 years!   I did, too.

Oh, well . Maybe it’s being accustomed to repetition.
Or, maybe, it is fear of missing a beat that churns our sleep when
out of bed we bolt towards a silent clock radio,
our dreams fuzzy and puzzling – our lives lacking thrills.

This feeling is inconceivable and mind-boggling.
The pain it causes implausible beyond belief, and I’m
thinking. My life is an unthinkably bad dream?
Though, I really can’t think in this wind.

Harry told me you can’t use pills.

You can’t fight what you don’t first acknowledge.
You can’t win if you don’t respect your opponent.
You can’t be great if you don’t demand the best in yourself. 
Yes. We “can’t” a lot of things day after day after day.  I did two.

Suddenly, I stand up straight,
strategizing how to steer clear of accidents,
spend quality time,
stimulate my own economy. 
Slow – my – pace.   
This sultry zephyr incites me to use my routine skills.

Copyright © 1960-2015 Lawrence J. J. Leonard  All rights reserved.

Author: SpindoctorUSA

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