The sonnet below was written several months ago, and so many really bad things have happened in my body since thenn, that it seems like gratuitous chest-beating.
I'm four years past my sell-by date,
and Doc's surprised, how long I've lasted,
but there's a simple way I cheated fate:
I am a tough hard ornery bastard.
Today new tumour in the mirror,
and a joke my wife thought sick;
but, you see, there's nothing clearer
than this road-fork: take your pick:
sentiment can be the heart's kind guide,
and you'll live a Hallmark movie,
or you can laugh with Spartan pride
where even death is somethin' groovy.
If it's further days you seek,
shun the feelings of the weak.
Today I have neither time nor energy to think and write this way.
I just give death the finger, and move on. Way more economical, and less embarrassing.
Music from Matchbox 20, with How Far We've Come.
Thanks to Carol Ashby, Blessed Are The Pure Of Heart is back on Kindle, and will be available in paperback soon.
Friends are everything. I couldn't have done it.
Below are my recent releases on Kindle -please excuse their presence in the body of the blog. I haven't the energy to get them up as 'buttons' in the sidebar. You can click on the covers to go to the Amazon links.