poem memoir 1.

this life is meaningless.
every rising sun,
a new meaningless day.
the hard work, the bitter sweat,
all for vanity, yes vanity.

youth and splendor,
the eye’s desires,
the heart’s lusts.
fingers itching for everything,
everything meaningless.

a way and purpose,
visions and dreams,
past, present, future.
yet he was right,
it is all meaningless.


poem memoir 2.

the cold hard floor,
a solace to my tired back.
sleep in bounty, a dream even,
leaving me amazed and in wonder.

on any other day,
a sponge the order of the night.
on a blue moon night,
the head high eyes soggy,
the floor as sweet as the sponge.

but on this day,
the head clear eyes sleepy.
yet the floor,
as sweet as on any other day.

poem memoir 3.

in the left defensive,
in the right all knowing,
a ring on the left,
a wake up call on the right.
one on the left,
other on the right,
yet all on the same side.

a cure to folly,
a step to the left,
a step to the right,
yet all in sync.
one imperfect,
other as imperfect as the one.
oh! how i wonder,
how it all works.

poem memoir 4.

Art! Art! Art!
Everything is art.
The Genesis of the world,
Our everyday lives,
Successes and failures,
All Art!

Yet of all arts,
One has me on my edge,
The art of love.
Art is beautiful,
Love is beautiful.
You Love one,
That loves another.

Art is seen,
Art is heard,
Art is touched,
Art is a feeling.
Love I want to feel.
Art I want to love.
The art of love!

poem memoir 5.

Up the ladder I go,
Very steep indeed,
But on the wrong wall.
History repeats itself,
Past experience notwithstanding,
To the pitfalls I stumble.
A step back on the ladder,
Many a times,
Leading to a fall.
Not from a misstep,
But due to circle of influence.

poem memoir 6.

Eyes darting,
Left to right,
Neck craning,
At least for a peek,
The mind blank.

A few minutes back,
The mind cool,
Content full,
In the heat of the moment,
All is gone.

A scratch on the head,
A tap on the desk,
A bite of the pen,
The tip unused,
What a feeling.

  By Carlsham