|
|
|
Best Poems From ALBERT AHEARN
|
|
| |
|
|
249.
|
Limbo
Muffled mourning falls on deaf ears
that echo elegiac waves
from a transgressible past life.
Phantoms in an abstract limbo
where the living never enters.
***
Doctor, what is your prognosis?
I'm sad to say his futures grim
I doubt that he will last a day.
His reasoning is nearly gone
his hapless body skin and bone.
***
A new found voice sounds in this place
where immortal souls congregate
and faceless face oblivion:
the edge of hell, there's no escape.
Albert Ahearn
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
| |
|
|
250.
|
Lives to eat
37 % of adult Americans eat to live; the remaining 63% live to eat. This latter group is classified as overweight/obese. The protagonist in this literary work is one of them.
She sits alone on a stuffed chair
That once had rigid, durable
Springs; but that was a hundred pounds ago.
Today this amoebic, shapeless
Behemoth is eating a pie-
a large pizza with anchovies.
She is separating her fifth
Piece but momentary pauses
Burps, and with her greasy fingers
Gropes for the channel selector
And rapidly surfs the channels
until she reached the food network.
She resumes eating the fifth piece
Eyeing the remaining pieces.
Albert Ahearn
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
| |
|
|
251.
|
Living The Moment
I walk alone along the sandy shore.
A waxing moon guiding my every step
Leaving shallow sandy footprints behind;
I stop and look back as the upsurge wave
Washes over them and where I now stand
Then ebbing back into its salty self
Taking with it all traces of the past;
I look out over the expansive sea
With its shimmering, glimmering swells;
I gaze into the infinite darkness
Of cold space drizzled with celestial stars.
A feeling of sadness overwhelms me
In knowing that all this nightly splendor
Will one night present itself without me.
I am now the past.
The moon, sea and stars live on
ad infinitum.
Albert Ahearn
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
| |
|
|
252.
|
Lofty Afterlife
Lo! Death resides atop that lofty hill.
Expanse of Donn, the ruling god of death.
With eponymic marble monoliths-
Desideratum prodigality.
Extravagance! A lifeless lavishness
Which doesnt make a damn difference
To the conquering worm. Your loftiness
In life, that once encompassing delight,
Is pallid, ghostly in your present stead.
Your measured qualifications decreased
In spite of your chiseled artifices.
Alas! Piteous mortuus somes
Your heighten tombs on top that highest mound
May be as close to heaven you may get.
Albert Ahearn
|
| |
|
|
|
|
|
|