Those Were the Days My Friend
#225
Good morning and welcome back. Today’s non-random pick is a standard Petrarchan. ABBAABBA CDECDE
It’s non-random in the sense that I did not use a random number generator. Although one could call it random in that I chose it because the 1968 Mary Hopkin’s song came into my head. Not quite what they call an “ear-worm,” but a song that is part of my life’s soundtrack nonetheless.
Those Were the Days My Friend #225 That youth is wasted on the young seems true, When from a cage of creaking bones we stare And wonder at a world that seems not fair. What purpose all the troubles we went through? To’ve thrashed about when no one could subdue That boundless strength, of dangers unaware We forged our way immune from all despair. Now sit we stiff, decisions past review. The power to reflect now in our hand Replaces all the verve we once possessed Within these limbs that, traitorous, deny Us of the strength to dragon’s fire withstand. Yet life survived becomes our great bequest If shared with all and sundry ‘fore we die. Frank Garnick © Copyright The Archer's March 24 January 2023
Although Millenials and Zoomers may view me as old, Boomers surely don’t. I’m now more than halfway past the mean expiration date of my parents, and a life with many hardships has left me somewhat of of creaking mess. I’m in stellar health relative to both of my parents, though.
This piece is merely the musings of a blue collar guy entering (or fully ensconced) middle age. Let the younger folks prepare and the older folks reminisce.
Sorry for this post being a bit late, but it’s actually pretty amazing that I got it out at all. Thank you for reading and have a wonderful day.
And if you have a mind, buy me a coffee.
Strangely, this too was a background to my life at an earlier age. Someone who worked with her told me that she had dreadful stage fright. She got to the stage where she pretended to be ill in order to avoid performing. She faded from view and shuns all attempts to revive her brief period of stardom. The sonnet reminds us of those 'traitorous limbs' and don't we know it?