old poetmen

"The grace of human life is not to lack insecuritites, but to turn them to good use."
-Julius Novick
-------------------------------------------------------

Old poetmen have us all beat!!
I grow weary as the minutes tick by.
Can this be all? Is that it?
To have breathed such significance and still be denied
And explanation?
---That’s my hell?
Old poetmen can extemporize for hours,
But what, in the end, have they contributed?
Little more than words.
But what are words?

They are all we have to go on.
They define us.

So in the end, is it the man who contributes
The most thoughtful verse that is the most valued?
And if that be the case, who decides?
We are but little men in this game.
And I feel the smallest yet…

Old poetmen have us all beat.