Poem By Brian Routh
Lost in earthen ware jars,
Thrown to the tide and the dust storm,
Forever I rearranged myself and started across town.
The streets were deserted,
I wandered aimlessly, looking this way and that,
Expecting to see the shroud in all its splendour.
Too much as I rambled on at length,
Hoping to see the new dawn and the brilliant primroses.
Aghast! My head and heart had swollen to immense proportions.
I let myself drift in this sea of cacophonous swirling and abstractions.
I hoped to stay and linger forever on this orbiting slab of debris.
To watch awhile longer, the frenzied comings and goings of the twisted populace.
To feel the sensations of blood pounding in my head
And the animalistic mechanism of the heart pumping its oil around this aging body.
Tomorrow is a bank account of my life.
I look foreword and wait.
Expecting to what tomorrow will bring.
The past is my record.
No longer in the top fifty.