That empty space.

I have no interest in poetry anymore

Dare I say it life has lost it savour

I try to read the most contemporary of the art

And stop mid-sentence, unable to find the thrill

I once felt.

I chose this art, or should I say it chose me

Because of its instancy, the immediate, yeah I get it

A slice of life in a few words;

Now even the shortest poems seem drawn out

As I stumble over the expressions like a geriatric.

It’s not because I’m old…

I’m midlife and have all my faculties

It’s just that everything, even my beloved poetry

Seems to be such a chore.

I try to listen to music,

The songs I loved to hear

Even they don’t inspire.

A bit of television

The repeats bore me to tears.

“Everything is meaningless.”

As the ecclesiast would say

Or our more contemporary preacher,

“I just can’t get no satisfaction anymore.”

Yeah Mick Jagger went through the phase too.

Now he is older, dare I say wiser?

Still rocking to the golden oldies of yesteryear

And satisfaction, Is he getting any? Or just counting

The pennies he won’t be able to take with him

When his time stands still in the satisfied earth.