Treasure Island

Jonathan ROBIN

(22 September / London)

Bell's Palsy IV - Shocks and Spills


There seems no antidotage panacea
reversing wrinkles, shrinkles, age's ills.
Alzheimer and ten thousand shocks and spills
'that flesh is heir to' when sense slows, goes queer.
Alert at ninety, by all near held dear,
is not the common lot, sight fails, slight chills
mutate despite most modern doctors' wills.
None stem time's tide. Horizons disappear.
Thus treat each day as treat, ignoring fear
and angst that fear of fear itself instills
as petal power from past pride's flower fills
time's rills as, falling, death's felt calling near.
Paralysis if temporary finds
incentive to reboot inventive minds.

Submitted: Thursday, October 03, 2013
Edited: Thursday, October 03, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

(4 December 2007 revised 9 January 2009)

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