The First Hundred Years

(Reynold D. Philipsek)
I have been writing a “poem” a day lately for a small private collection I am calling, “Verse in the Time of Covid.” Here’s one of the latest.

I’m not as smart as I used to think
But greying hair did not dim the light
I no longer feel I’m on the brink
of genius when merely bright

I now blush with mighty shame
when I look back on brazen days
Thank God I have now lived long enough
to amend those sophomoric ways

The folly of youth can be forgiven
if followed by mature repose
But woe to those who blindly persist
because then true foolishness grows

“There is no fool like an old fool”
I never want to hear that said
behind my back or when I depart
That thought fills me with dread

I now fondly remember my Uncle Dave 
His words now ring wise and clear
“The first hundred years are the roughest,” he said
Those words seem wiser every year

Karma Yoga

I have always been somewhat of a hobbyist with poetry. Aside from a few song lyrics I have not written much for about 20 years. The self-isolation and world situation has reactivated that idea. Take care. Reyn 

Karma Yoga” (reynold d. philipsek)

I sense no sign of diminution
No lack of longing here
The wish to justify this existence
is always present and ever-clear
A need to wax poetic
and fabricate some artifact
Goes well beyond self-indulgence
or self-congratulatory act

It gives life some purposeful meaning
in times of deep uncertainty
To speak some coded language
between our two eternities
Vague and timeless impressions overflow
and a reservoir does fill
Until nothing can be done but to
express life’s mysterious thrill

The mystic chords of memory
play a subtle Proustian game
that inform this lonely journey
then rekindle the fluttering flame
So once again pick up the burden
and gladly move it forward
It’s not about basking in any glory
or expectation of reward