The Poetry Of...
Harold Lorin.....................................
Summer Party
The male crickets sing the August night.
The ladies listen to their sultry songs.
Pass by stay for a drink but
They will leave early for another tryst.
After all, one has all the chances.
And even if the world is old, the night is young.
The gentlemen clean out the cups
Put out more drinks sing another song.
Is it the sad song an abandoned lover sings
Or a tune he hums while tidying up
And readying for another August visit?
Hands
Darling it is not your fault.
You are not responsible for time.
Even had your heart been always kind
And your voice was always cool
And your wants more comprehensible
I would still be old.
I would still be just the memory of
The dark haired girl
Whose small hand you first took
Autumns and Autumns ago.
Xerxes Tears
Xerxes Great Monarch of The Persians
Watched his vast force cross the Hellespont to history.
He cried "In a hundred years all here are dead."
But Artabanus, his wise and counseling uncle, said
"Sad may be the shortness of life, but sadder
yet is many here may wish it shorter."
Sage Artabanus would also know
The days are few between the time
Someone is told "you will not die"
The thought occurs, Perhaps it may be time.
