Albeit

Poem By Robert Sheridan

Graying of hair
Bit of a spread
Feet of clay, I
sit here slowly
aging.

Thinking back,
I was a burner
of bridges, was
always in love,
now I'm not.

Good things in
life - they come
& they go, they
come & they go,
go figure.

Tired of always
being told what
to & what not to
do - designed to
enlighten us.

But have to keep
in mind 'tis better
to progress than
digress - sanity
keeps me in check.


'2008'

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Other poems of SHERIDAN

ǣ Ceallian Tð Ælmesse

(a call to alms)

fðlmes ðf þæt giernans
(hands of the beggars)

Lufian Ðpeians

(love opens)

sceawian seð beacen þæt halgians
(see the sign that consecrates)

Clear As Mud

Soft earth, or earthy matter
Scandalous and malicious
assertions, brewed strong
and bitter; as-a lubricant

Whiplash

Lash of love's whip
Abrupt, snapping
motion - dot the i
and cross the t;

Mull

I ruminate & I ponder
I don't always think
things through, then
enters the 'f' word,