A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years. Try the RANDOM button to sample the sometimes surprising breadth of quality (and in several Novembers, breathtaking quantity as well), or click the "ANY GOOD" label* for those poems labeled with it. On any poem, old or new, feel free to offer your remarkable insight or critical acumen.

*I haven't yet revisited many pockets and stretches of time to appraise and label the "any goods," so some are missing. Please feel free to point out omissions, or - especially - erroneous inclusions, in comments.

but aren't they all random?

Tuesday, January 08, 2013

"wisdom ages"

At work,

I just fell
down.

I fell down
in a big hurry, took
a corner too hard on a wide open
floor, sole worn too smooth slipped
well past my side-leaning center
of gravity (well
- to be honest,
I've never been very self-centered.
But then, but still somehow,
I always maintained that my feet would remain,
for the most part, right under me, in balance
until) now,

Until
suddenly. I fell, down. Hard,
fairly.

- Dad used to say,
"it's tough when you get old."

I fell, fairly hard, and for the first time ever
didn't bounce.

I crashed like a sack, flat
and half-full of something heavy,
but rigid along set lines and angles
like a corpse. I hit, with small cloth rips
and jacket flaps, slacks and shirt spread
like an impact wave, one ripple out
and then back,
down,

and settling. Coming in, coming to some
semblance of my senses, I realize I am unhurt,
and faintly ridiculous, but with no one there
to apologize to for it.

I'm not sorry.

- Dad used to say,
"sorry is a sorry word."

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