Great effort has failed
and though time is kind to wrongs,
this structure we live in seems to be
forgotten by all but flies
and men who cannot imagine
life without them.
Great effort has come to worse
than nothing
a skeleton, a relic
looming, inhabiting thoughts,
memory, skyline, horizon.
New foundations may congeal
in unlikely places.
Among the relics and forgotten men
new spires may be formed
from old bones, and the wings of flies.
New effort may take hold of hope,
make it tangible,
relics become the new monuments.
Should another great effort fail
become the new relic,
remember, time is kind,
failure is a fly,
and memory is kinder still.
Poetry on the run 
Very interesting, philosophical round table…
Just yourself with your thoughts, sitting one by one on all seats, leaving a diary note for the next time you’ll sit there, realising history is just new memories, remembered.
And your flies…
Why is it you always have to buzz me back to reality:-)))
Promise me, would you, when we both finish here, and we go through our dream-door into one of our other lives, that you won’t bring your bees, and flies and all other yourselfism born creatures of my utter addiction to your stile?
Wait a minute, now do I want or not to see your critters over there?
Hmm, I’ll need some more of your philosophy/poetry to decide:-)
Rom
LikeLike
Okay my friend, I promise no more bugs…I am afraid my dear mother read Kafka to me at bedtime and I have been fascinated with bugs ever since, and with Franz too of course. =D
LikeLike
you might have the coolest mom alive…
LikeLike
she is certainly a unique mother.
LikeLike
Why am I not getting your replies in my feed even though I click all zem buttons? Ron could you please release all your kafkesques critters on WordPress, please?😃
You are very kind my friend, please just do your bugs and critters, just don’t change the yourselfism I love! I repent of all my anti-critter slanderous attitude!
Won’t you believe what I was reading around 10 years of age: Marx’ essays about England’s working, impoverished masses… At about 12 granny gave me Mengele’s holocaust surviving assistant’s book(s)…
We all carry some luggage, my good friend…
With friendly respect,
Rom
LikeLike
I have the same problem with replies…a quirk of
WordPress I suppose.
Well we do write some (all?) of our poetry to open that luggage.
LikeLike
(Deep sigh) I guess you are right, probably all…
Rom
LikeLike
I am party to all bugcentric poetry! Bring forth the bugs! They display our innermost lives!
great poem
-v.t.s.
LikeLike