Poetry Formula

I have come to the conclusion that life, poetry, theater and, often, prose are most poignant when they evoke all of our senses (touch, hearing, taste, smell, kinesthesis and sight). For instance, this is why we like going to the beach so much — the warm sun, the roar of the surf, the salt-air and sun lotion smells, the gritty sand on our feet and bodies, the beautiful blue horizon, even the fried clams at the local clam shack.

The same can be said for fine restaurants, the ambience, the soft music, the taste and smell of the food ... even the lush napkins and tablecloths.

So, dear reader, using this formula, here is my doggerel:

A lavender-scented zephyr tugs erotically at my soaring soul,
With its cacophony of siren serenades.
I never expect the acrid aftertastes that I get
When it chills my bones as it fades among the scarlet sunset.

Now, dear reader, you know the secret ... and you too can be another Keats  ...

Circling the Drain

Don't get around much anymore -- Duke Ellington

Growing old is a matter of regression. We are becoming shorter. We are getting less exercise. We are (or should be) eating smaller portions. Our circle of friends is diminished. Our interests are less. We read fewer books, see fewer movies and plays. We generally take fewer and shorter trips (except for those geriatric cruises.)  Our sight, taste buds, odor acuity, balance and hearing are impacted. We get drunk less often, smoke fewer cigars and pot, and enjoy fewer other vices.

Yes, there are elderly exceptions ... but they are few. Such fighters against the ravagess of time are to be admired ... but eventually nature has her way with them too.

My accumulation of these symptoms must mean that, at almost 80, I too am circling the drain.