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by Rob Littler

One reflects to digress,
knowing the reflection
is the single exception
one expects, to impress
the mind for the trouble at all—
the diversion a necessary
fall, away from the projection,
that façade of public display,
and the clichéd fruits of its expression

…to succumb to blissfulness and relay
the matters that seem
to matter most to a man
of a certain age, not old, yet
growing noticeably not young.

by moment, we live
these years we call lives
with others, lovers, or wives
by and not by our sides,
never noticing the pace of our lives
ticking the short
and long strides—
going about being
each day careening
into the next, episodic
we are looking back
so far it feels like


Posted on 01/08/2012
Copyright © 2021 Rob Littler

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 01/09/12 at 02:37 AM

Really nice attention to flow and structure. It moved the voice right along, and there were some great lines to be found.

Posted by George Hoerner on 12/01/17 at 08:34 PM

I've come see with less and less to see before me that I see as much joy in the past as I do as I do sadness. Maybe that is just the direction/angle from which I look. Sometimes I believe I know less about life than I ever have. But then I think few of us know any where near what we feel we do. I think we who try to write poetry throw things out and watch to see what if anything comes back!!

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