Elizabeth E George

Poet of the Week: Robert Riche

In art, Blog, Poetry, Poets, Uncategorized, Writing 2012 on October 5, 2012 at 1:14 pm

The Procrastinator

 

It seems I’m never ready to go.

My wife says,  “Hurry up.

I’ll wait in the car.”

She sits while I hunt

for keys, my wallet,

a cigar, or two.

 

Lately it has gotten worse.

I don’t stand straight. I

scuff about in slippers.

She tells me I’m getting old.

Well, of course.  And who

isn’t?  I get there, though.

 

I tell myself, What’s the rush?

Let me shuffle

like an old retired steam engine;

a polished antique, that

puffs and snorts, and

folks cluck in admiration

at what it once must have been,

but no-one cares to ride any more.

 

I’m in no hurry.

I read the books

I shelved once for later,

wander in the woods alone,

come upon deer rutting

in the autumn leaves.

Rare wines set aside

taste better now,

with laughter of old friends

who rage with me against

the stupidities of government

gone mad.

 

I see myself as Lear

in the wilderness,

with no way back

to my former throne.

 

I’m coming. I’ll get there.

Even if I stall,

it won’t avail.

I won’t be ready, but

 

hold your damn horses,

you know I’ll go.

 

~poem by Robert Riche

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