the time has come

I have reached the point
where I no longer savor
thoughts of expressing myself
with this indifferent keyboard
my words have lost their flavor

I struggled futilely for months
upgrade became a catastrophe
my blog became as my aging body
nothing works the same as before
my mountain top approaches

upon me are three anniversaries
the suddenness of my stroke
the passing of my lovely daughter
the beginning of this my blog
the end is fast coming into view

flummox

when changes are being planned
some thought would be beneficial
to upgrade my blog seemed so grand
’til all comments seemed to stall

embarrassment must run its course
things should become clear over time
should have spent longer at the source
’tis possible I may still try to spin a rhyme

ironmongery

Mind!
I don’t mean to say
that I know
of my own knowledge
what there is particularly
dead
about a door nail
I might have been inclined
myself
to regard a coffin nail
as the deadest piece
of ironmongery
in the trade
but the wisdom
of our ancestors
is in the simile
and my unhallowed hands
shall not disturb it
or the country’s done for
You will therefore permit
me to repeat  emphatically
that Marley was as dead
as a door nail.

perpetuate

beauty hath evermore held prerogative and grace

to reconcile man’s mind and attract his will to it

where yet hath been none such opportunity offered me

with all those who were present having ne’er felt desire

much better things would be by not having such opinions

nor longer suffering themselves to be seen or felt

yet thinking to keep yon treasure hidden for themselves

twas nothing more than lies to perpetuate this myth

ridicule

There is no character,

howsoever good and fine,

but it can be destroyed by ridicule,

howsoever poor and witless.

Observe the ass, for instance:

his character is about perfect,

he is the choicest spirit among

all the humbler animals,

yet see what ridicule

has brought him to.

Instead of feeling complimented

when we are called an ass,

we are left in doubt.