Poet in a Graceless Age

by
Phil Cerasoli

Remember when gay meant happy,
when Coke was a soft drink,
and when poetry actually rhymed?


      POET IN A GRACELESS AGE
      by Phil Cerasoli

      Every now and then I need
      A place to hide away,
      Away from mundane things I've come to know.
      A place to clear my mind of all
      The traffic in its way;
      A place where other people seldom go.

      'Cause sometimes I get weary of
      The grind of daily life
      And of this Babylon where we reside.
      And there are times the things men do
      Cut at me like a knife
      And I can feel the rage build up inside.

      I think I'd like to sit alone
      On Serengeti's plain
      While Nature's cycle moves before my eyes.
      Or be in northern India when
      The monsoons bring their rain
      And watch the flooded rivers as they rise.

      Or go down deep in Mexico
      To Mismaloya Beach
      And lay down on the sand and watch the sky,
      And watch the clouds above me
      As they drift beyond my reach
      And watch the white-tailed gulls as they fly by.

      But I guess, down deep, I realize
      It's just a poet's dream
      To think that there's a place where things all rhyme.
      And no-one wants to hear another
      Poet's naive scheme.
      To them it's just a foolish waste of time.

      So maybe I was born too soon
      Or maybe years too late.
      Or maybe I'm just on another page.
      I only know I'm out of tune
      And that I'm out of date.
      As I struggle through this cold and graceless age.

      Copyright 2001 - Phil Cerasoli

Return to Phil Cerasoli Homepage Return to Phil Cerasoli HomePage

If you have ideas or suggestions to improve this site, contact: webmaster@jimpinto.com
Copyright 2000 : Jim Pinto, San Diego, CA, USA