by IRENE FOWLER, Contributor
“When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot in it and hang on.”
– Franklin D. Roosevelt
“The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen
or even touched – they must be felt with the heart.”
– Anne Sullivan, Helen Keller’s teacher
“It’s always darkest before the dawn.”
– Thomas Fuller, theologian
“I will not follow where the path may lead, but I will go where
there is no path, and I will leave a trail.”
– Muriel Strode, poet
To read Irene’s new poem, “Summer Reflections” click:
by Irene Fowler
Life is a heart matter
The nuts and bolts of a blessed, cherished life
Fasten and secure shaky, watery foundations
Anchoring on to immutable, unwavering precepts
In a topsy-turvy, death-ridden world
Our enigmatic universe is like a turbocharged washing machine
Albeit, too many of us live life in the reverse cycle
We emerge soiled, after the world has spun us around, having washed away our
innate, new-born cleanliness.
Our capacity for good and evil is labyrinthian and infinite
The virtuous, noble heart can be found in a decrepit, filthy hovel
Likewise, the heart of an evil, depraved monster, can flourish in an ornate, gilded palace.
In a post-truth age, truth has become a rare and precious commodity
Truth has to be searched for like the most precious mineral or metal
For the truth-averse, it has become a pesky bug, rather than a glorious, liberating
However, the truth will outlive the most sinister, obtuse and cavalier, truth-denier or sceptic.
Our life dreams are our goalposts
Although we may at times crawl, hobble, walk or run
Giving up or turning back, is an own goal, scored in the opponent’s goal post
There may not be a marching band or cheering fans egging you on
Your time on the field of life may lack a referee making fair calls in your favour
You are a team of one, in one race – of one.
When we leave the earthly realm
For sure we will take no earthly possessions
Even so, every winged u-haul will transport our works of good and evil
By then it’s too late for re-dos or regrets
For life begets life and vileness begets vileness
We harvest what we have sown.
There are no second chances after the final breath
Death is the implacable, unyielding equalizer and leveller of mankind
Ticking-time applies to all universally, bar none
The bell will toll for thee, as it will for me
What then will our excuses be?
© 2022 by Irene Fowler