Six Poems

by Hal O'Leary

IMPRISONED
(Pantoum)

Am I a prisoner of what I own?
Though such an idea might seem strange indeed,
What's dawned on me, is what I should have known.
I think I may have gone from need to greed.

Though such an idea might seem strange indeed,
With each day spent protecting what I've got,
I think I may have gone from need to greed
I find myself imprisoned. Am I not?

With each day spent protecting what I've got,
I live in fear of what I have to lose.
I find myself imprisoned. Am I not?
Denied the freedom braver souls would choose.

I live in fear of what I have to lose.
Possessions have me locked within their grip.
Denied the freedom braver souls would choose.
Of all life's nectar, I've had but a sip.

Possessions have me locked within their grip.
What's dawned on me is what I should have known.
Of all life's nectar, I've had but a sip.
Am I a prisoner of what I own?

I'M NOT SURE HOW
(Pantoum)

We'll get through this...I'm not sure how.
We've suffered things like this before.
The world's too much with us now.
It's hard to say what lies in store.

We've suffered things like this before,
When we were young, but now I fear,
It's hard to say what lies in store
We might not make it through the year.

When we were young. But now I fear
Our time is slipping fast away.
We may not make it through the year.
We may not make it through the day.

Our time is slipping fast away.
I fear, my dear, it may be true,
We may not make it through the day.
There must be something we can do.

I fear, my dear, it may be true.
The world's too much with us now.
There must be something we can do.
We'll get through this...I'm not sure how.


YOU MUST BE YOU
(Rondel)

If you would thrive, you must be you,
No matter what the others say.
You must not honor nor obey,
It means you start your live anew.

If to yourself you can be true,
You'll find there is no other way.
For you to thrive, you must be you,
No matter what the others say.

The heart is what you listen to,
The head can oft lead you astray.
Call up the courage come what may.
Reap all rewards that are your due.
For you to thrive, you must be you.

MY LIFE

It's true that in my youth I was beset
With fear that I might lose my life, and yet,
I must say that the fear was quite offset,
By treating life just as I did roulette.
I'd go all out and never hedge a bet.
The fear of loss was one I'd never met.
I'd raise the stakes and never break a sweat.
My life became an appetite to whet.
A banquet that I never will forget.

And now, a member of the Senior Set,
I may be past my prime, but I don't fret.
I've used life well, and now I'm pleased to let
The ones that follow get their tootsies wet,
And true to form, I hope that they can net
A life like mine, for now that I'm a vet,
There's nothing more I'd really like to get.
And as the end draws near with no regret,
Old death becomes a promise, not a threat.

A DAY TO REMEMBER

A summer morn, a sun beyond compare,
A stroll to bask and take the summer air,
A life reborn, a day extremely rare,
No soul could ask for anything more fair.
So, off I set, not really caring where.
It was as though I'd never had a care,
At ease and yet alive, for unaware,
I longed to know what waited for me there.
On such a day, I felt that I could swear
That nothing dire could possibly impair
My golden ray of hope. I do declare
It lit a fire I felt a need to share.

But, not to be, for down the sidewalk, there
Appeared a sight that gave me quite a scare,
For I could see, and much to my despair,
Someone, at night, had scrawled a message there.
I knew, of course, it wouldn't be a prayer,
Or children's play, and so I'd best prepare
Myself for coarse, and yes, the foulest fare
To turn my day into a sad affair.
But, as I neared, I had to stop and stare,
For on the walk, I saw, and do declare,
Not what I'd feared, for there with quite a flair,
In yellow chalk, it simply said, "Hi There".

FREE VERSE

Let not there be a doubt, I am averse
To everything they choose to call 'free verse'.
For me it has become the devil's curse
On poetry, and making matters worse,
It's naught but prose.

In dictionaries, metric is most used,
Along with rhyme, (these terms are often fused)
To tell us 'verse' should never be confused.
Or ever used with 'free'. We're not amused.
Give us repose.

If we are free to do most anything,
And all our words, we do not choose but fling,
Then lyricism looses all its ring,
And though we write, we do no longer sing.
I do propose.

Although it's true we cannot close the door
On charges that we live in days of yore,
It's time to claim, as we have done before,
'Free Verse', An oxymoron, nothing more.
With that I close.

© 2011 by Hal O'Leary