I've never been much good at following the rules of poetry, which is perhaps why I enjoy writing songs instead. That way I can be my own master! In celebration of the great art, here's a little something I wrote after my husband and I visited with one of his old friends. Hearing their memories eventually resulted in this...
THE
GAME OF LIFE
I
wonder what it is my shadows see,
When
they’re looking up to and making mountains of me?
Lines
and shelter, authority,
They
don’t see the man I used to be.
Wild
and remiss, and free to roam,
Always
with a crowd yet forever alone,
Many
strange faces, including my own,
My
reflection and I sat upon a throne.
Looking
back, there is some shame,
If
I could turn around would I do the same?
You
choose your own cards when you deal in the game...
When
you chance to be risky and feed the flame,
When
you carry the courage to not be the same,
That’s
living the game of life.
I
raced with fast women. I raced with fast
toys.
Wherever
I went I made lots of noise.
I
lived half dead to lead the pace of the boys,
Even
good girls gave into my ploys.
Many
times now I turn my head to forget,
How
far away I was from knowing what’s best,
My
head was a brick and fate was for the rest,
All
I thought real was a misguided mess.
I
carry a novel upon my face,
Whose
lines tell of times my memory erased,
Light
from my shadows assure it wasn’t a waste,
Gone
if I hadn’t taken the time to taste?
I’m
no longer alone when I play King of the night,
And
despite my skin’s poetry I’m still able to fight,
With
a wiser head for knowing what’s right,
I
realize now my hand, in the game of life.
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