Saturday, October 29, 2011



The power has been out here
Twice already.

I know I should be writing
While there's light.

I know I should be writing.
I never find the time to,

But still, I waste
A solitary night.

I turn the cards and shuffle,
Smack them down while thinking,

I know I should be writing
While there's time.

When Grandma lay here dying,
I used to hear her playing,

Shuffling through the night
Until she'd gone.

I know I should be writing.
I harbor no illusions;

I shuffle, and I play
This game alone.

And you, Dear Reader, shimmer,
Figment of my Fancy,

You shake your head 
At each cliche I own.

I harbor no illusions,
That my words somehow matter,

Witness to things
I think or feel.

Solitary writer,
I sit here in the darkness.

I sit here in the darkness,
And I deal.


  1. I used to be all about solitaire - and then I discovered Webkins games and I'm pretty proficient in time wasting!

  2. Thanks for reading, Dana. I seem to find too many ways to waste my time. We can't get a moment back, and yet we let them go. :(

  3. The memory of your grandmother springs out of this and could be a poem all its own... definitely the emotional core of this.

  4. oh, the rhythm of it, and the wisdom it contains. i love how simple this poem is - yet it tells so much about life, witnessed by someone aging (uhm, i was lamenting on using this particular word, but you see, this is not a poem written by someone in his/her early twenties... ) in a careful and well-thought way.