Monday, February 03, 2014

Small hours stock taking


Even at this hour, not too bad, all things considered
(as if all things can ever be considered).
Memories keep badly on the whole it’s true,
but anger mostly used up now, so much the better
there’s little use for it these days.
Contentment is in good supply, and peace;
love in abundance, I grow quite fat on that;
enough of busy-ness, plans, a good pinch of resolve.
The mouse shit, dirt and cobwebs, fear and accidie
are regularly swept away and kept at bay.

I know, however, that the debt is mounting.
I’ve made an application to my creditors, several times,
at least to let me pay off some of the accumulated interest,
tried to persuade them I can embrace frugality,
cope with hardship, am even willing to take on the costs of others
more hard-pressed than myself. But now I’ve given up,
they just won’t hear of it, preferring, I’m afraid
to close in later with the bill in full.



9 comments:

Roderick Robinson said...

Worth the price of entry for:

(as if all things can ever be considered)

It is, of course, just our own little world that's under consideration and, given the time you mention, a shrunken version at that. I am pleased on your behalf that contentment is available in buckets-ful. Not alas for me. More a time of the sins of the fathers being visited upon the fathers; since, being fatherless, I play both roles.

Strange how disinclined I would be (You too?) to write the five-hours-later sequel to this poem. Once adolescence has been balled up in hygienic, impermeable wrapping (cellophane, in your case; adolescence deserves no less) and hurried off the premises, unqualified optimism alone is never sufficient reason for toying with scansion.

I too have recently been preganant with verse and parturition may occur today. But I'm glad you beat me to it. I like the thought that we both (sort of) shared a pregnancy.

The Crow said...

Robbie's post appeared first in my list this morning; his poem a rare treat.

Then, was blessed again when I scrolled down the page and found yours. A wonderful way to begin my day.

Joe Hyam said...

A gentle and poignant statement, dear Lucy. Something understood and greatly to be treasured. I have a feeling that this is a poem I shall be wanting to quote.

polish chick said...

the point about anger is a good one. it still flares up, but i think i am learning to not feed the fire - it does little to keep one warm.

growing fat on love and peace is an image that does warm.

thank you for this.

Dale said...

Oh, I feel this way all the time! The mounting debt.

christopher said...

I couldn't help myself. The devil made me do it. Erk.

The Bargain

Old Nick is a stone
contractor. He had me sign
in ram's blood using
a ram's horn sourced nib
at the bottom of fifty
pages of fine print
guaranteeing me
a year of plenty per page
of his writ and then
an easy passing.
I have tried, Lord knows, to find
a way out for years,
to take my chances,
a carny among the marks
retired and at peace
but there's another
show to do, another crowd
to gather, to fleece.

Time's up in two days.

‎February ‎3, ‎2014 11:32 AM

Lucy said...

Thanks so much dears, what did I do to deserve such good readers?

zephyr aka vicki said...

Dear, Dear Lucy...
xx

Dick said...

A graceful and philosophical state-of-the-nation address, Lucy. How important it is to collate these from time to time. And how well they can work in verse!