An Endless recital.

An Endless Recital !



We say things
over and over
to ourselves to
reinforce our beliefs.
We practice 
again and again
to play a piece just right,

to score in a game,

or tell another

of our love,

We work a poem,

a song, a script

to death until it
shines that perfect
feeling to all the other

souls around us.

We spend our days
doing the same
practiced things

in rising, brushing,

washing, flushing,

eating, drinking, thinking.

So much of our lives

are repetitive impulses

force of habit

self improvement.

Compulsions to always

do better,

seeking love

till we are old

friendships to sail on

to our final days.

Are our lives

totalled by the amount

of grievers at our funerals

or does what we acccomplish

while still living matter most.

From the practice

of learning to walk and then

tying shoelaces,

till the tedium of accepting

that we are mortal by

that final kiss we grant

at the end of another's life.

We grow polished

like lumps of coal

pressured into

diamonds or dust.

But maybe at the end
of it all we will find
that life is but a recital.

A striving for a chance
to play in the heavens,
with an audience of God.

For a chance to stay
in his talented show
so......keep practicing,
you could win first chair.



More by this Author

  • Autumn Gleanings.

    From the Palette of Mother Nature. You know where to go with a doubt Behold the handicrafts of God, ~ observe now as his Winter looms, ~ stitch needled specks of crystal white. Each weaving flawless, thick...

  • Robin My Hood

    On the first day of xmas your true love gave you a schadenfreude Robin my hood... on April 1, 2004. ©-MFB III- All rights reserved As the rains subsided, I spied a mother Robin today dancing on clawed...

  • The Constipation Of The United Blights Of America.

    The Constipation of the United Blights of America ©-MFB III “ We the Puppets of the divided states, both red and blue, in disorder choose to deform a more perfect Union. We hang like...

Comments 1 comment

tnderhrt23 profile image

tnderhrt23 6 years ago

I really love this poem, MFB! So much truth flowing across what started out a blank slate! My favorite lines...

"We grow polished

like lumps of coal

pressured into

diamonds or dust.

But maybe at the end

of it all we will find

that life is but a recital."

When I pass on, My son wants to have my ashes compressed into diamonds...I told him, "That makes me a "DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH!!!" This poem is rich!

    Sign in or sign up and post using a HubPages Network account.

    0 of 8192 characters used
    Post Comment

    No HTML is allowed in comments, but URLs will be hyperlinked. Comments are not for promoting your articles or other sites.

    Click to Rate This Article