The Dark Ages

3 Comments

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  • Adversity

    The Dark Ages

    Adversity:

     

    A thief that breaks into my world

    The joy from life to steal,

    The victor, when I let strife

    Upset my even keel.

     

    When black clouds storm In rumbling

    Obscuring all that’s blue,

    And block the sunshine from my life

    In a colorless dark hue,

     

    With winds that whip up drama

    In unprecedented height,

    And destroy the melancholy

    By the sheer power of its might,

     

    And turn fatigue to hopelessness

    And further to despair,

    That only one who lives through such

    Can be fully made aware.

     

    But self-pity is our enemy

    That we must now dismiss,

    And refuse to venture down that road

    To infirmities Abyss.

     

    So reach for healing energy

    that’s created in positive thought,

    To heal our ailing cell structure

    That make up this mortal cloth.

     

    Throw open your battered shutters

    And now embrace sunlight,

    Abolish the Dark Ages

    With optimism overwrite.

     

    Be thankful for good memories

    And determine to make them last,

    Rehearse all of those good times

    Till your weary soul again can laugh.

     

    Rewrite affliction’s epitaph

    Leave no headstone unturned,

    Steal the thunder from this grave

    Declare this sentence now adjourned.

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    shallenemcgrath commented on The Dark Ages

    02-19-2011

    DH Lawrence wrote this small poem, four lines, called self-pity_____I never saw a wild thing/ sorry for itself./ A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough/ without ever having felt sorry for itself._____ I love these didactic poems you write.

    Whiskers

    02/19/2011

    Thank you so much for this comment, there is such truth in the lines you quote yet so hard to practice at times. Thank you for making me get out my Websters to look up didactic, what a great word. Yes, I feel if I can't pass on what I've learned... then whats the point of trying to suffer through it? Blessings, Whiskers

    shallenemcgrath

    02/19/2011

    Sometimes the devine force gives us something we will not fully understand until much time passes. e.g. I had a crappy childhood, but the things I have learned from that crappy childhood have given me insights as a step-parent, as a person, and as a wife, that I would not have had otherwise. When I was 10 yrs. old, and even when I was 20 years old- even 30 years old, I did not understand the full value of the experience. Bad things can make a person bitter if they don't look at things the right way. So I agree with what you are saying. I did home hospice for my grandmother- who raised me- and she said, "I think at the end we feel great pain, so that we want to go from this life. The pain makes it easier to leave than to stay." I thought that was pretty profound. Even then at the end she found her reason for suffering.

    Whiskers

    02/19/2011

    Yes, sometimes we just need to go through the school of hard knocks to get a degree of education. Sounds like you've learned your lessions and are now a blessing to those around you. Your grandmother may very well be correct in many instances, however when my mother-in-law who lived with us was dying of cancer at home with us and hospice's help, she lapsed into a comatose state that last day and passed into eternity quietly. I guess that's how we would all choose to go if given the option.

    Tempestlady commented on The Dark Ages

    02-19-2011

    I love a frisky wind, and fight for ways to lift the heaviness and weariness of life. I really related to this poem. Beautiful in its honesty and despair. Write on...................Tlady

    Whiskers

    02/19/2011

    Thank you Tlady for your beautiful and descriptive comments. When you've been in a long battle you just have to address it once in a blue moon. Blessings, Whiskers

    train64 commented on The Dark Ages

    02-19-2011

    Rudyard Kipling would be proud..Well done W.. train

    Whiskers

    02/19/2011

    Thank you Train, high praise, but as for Kipling... I couldn't aspire to inspire but to try'er quench the fire with a swampy drink of water from Gunga Din. He was to the English what Mark Twain was to us on this here side of the pond. Ya know, I cut my teeth on an origonal copy of his Barrack Room Ballads passed down through my family but now gone like most of my library when I was so sick and my wife had to sell everything. But I'm just honored to have owned it for awhile. Blessings, W.

    Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion.

    T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

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