You-Me-Us, a Measure of Infinity

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

“Clocks slay time... time is dead as long as it is being clicked off by little wheels; only when the clock stops does time come to life.”
― William Faulkner (The Sound and the Fury)

“The past is never dead. It's not even past.”

― William Faulkner (Requiem for a Nun) 

It is so true that time waits for no one, but neither does it stop for any of us either. No, I am not presupposing some religious-oriented eternity, but the posthumous consciousness to which I have often referred in my poems over the past ten years. I will, by the way, be posting far fewer poems from now on as I need to put together revised editions of my poetry collections to eventually post online. I am 74 now and have been living with prostate cancer – among other health issues -since 2011. While I continue to look on the bright side of life, I would like readers to be able to access my poems should Google ever delete my blogs and/or the Grim Reaper come calling sooner rather than later. (Well, you never know…)

Expect the occasional new poem, though, while some of you may like to explore the archives for either or both poetry blogs; these are listed and can be accessed on the right of any blog entry. Oh, and if you ever feel like sending the link to anyone you know who enjoys poetry, be my guest, and many thanks.

Happy New Year everyone, and many thanks for your support over the last 10 years.

YOU-ME-US, A MEASURE OF INFINITY

More than another day

or even another year, but a new decade,

demanding we face it boldly,

unafraid of those who would do us harm

by taking issue with sexual identity

and gender equality in any society answering

to modernity by way of keeping up

appearances. so long as no one gets too close

a look at its underbelly

More than another day,

or even another year, but a new decade

needing us to be prepared

at the off, to take issue with any politics

preferring we focus on blame games,

and media criticism

than any deficiencies in policies going ahead

as promised in the General Election if not quite

in the same direction

More than another day,

or even another year, but a new majority

In the upper echelons of power,

as likely to make sure the rich get richer

and the poor get poorer

as it has always been (and always will) if only

because nothing lasts forever

and human nature prefers its best bubble blowers

to insure against the worst

Time, it waits for no one;
rank or station, ours to make of as we will, 

its precious gift to everyone

no less precious a bane as its years go by

and we all get to share
in mixed pleasures long after they have gone;

let a south wind dry any tears,

inspire us to move on, give love its head yet again, 

nothing and no one forgotten

Copyright R. N. Taber 2019

[This poem appears on both poetry blogs.]