The Toll Must Be Paid - a poem of Life and its travials

Each year on the streets
built up a terrible debt
of pains and rest denied
that came home at last
knocking me on the ropes.

A month for each year,
my body hath loudly decreed,
I must give it rest,
lest it break down hard,
and it collected this year.

Since January's winter snows flew,
each week my body ached,
and refused to let mind
wander the paths of exploration
about stories, poems, even gripes.

This is the recovery week.
The one when I rose
back from the thiick ennui
and lift up my pen,
metaphorical, in these electronic days.

Now I will write again,
though no where as prolific,
until I build a desk
to work out tales upon,
and use at my leisure.

But, first there will come
a bed, real not floor
grabbed by spreading a bedroll,
to sleep upon at last,
and regain a pinch more
of humanity.

27May2016 - A slowly rising back up from the fog Dyfedd Rex.

Back on My Feet

The song was wrong,
I was not the one
that could not be beaten.
But, I battled through.

Got a job again,
hope it lasts a while,
let's me get onto ground
that is not quicksand.

One thing I forgot,
is the aches and pains
that will stay with me
from this long drought.

Four years without work,
most of it on streets,
and the body is complaining
each morning I rise.

Not about today's strains,
but the ones long suppressed
and only as I relax
coming to collect due.

Thank Mother Nature's mercy
that coffee is at hand
and works as advertised constantly
to get me going...
or at least into gear.
3April2015 - Dyfedd Rex