Foxhole Prayers (Parts 1 &2)
When I was young, I used to care -
For all of life seemed but one great dare
And each day held it’s fruit, so rare
When I was young, I used to care.
The wild world, it held no scare;
I ran about, like some march hare,
Without the fear of field nor snare
When I was young, I used to care.
When I was young, And unaware -
A rainy daydream’s solitaire
We’d build grand castles in the air
When I was young, I used to care
But no one told me to prepare
For life is fickle, fey, and fair
And no one’s season’s sickle’s spared
When I was young, I used to care
When I was young, did oft despair
So much it was my Nom de Guerre
As deeper draughts and thoughts impair -
When I was young, I used to care.
At times it seemed too much to bear:
those fleeting early days of ne’er
Or was it all a foxhole prayer?
When I was young, I used to care.
Youth’s apogee - A flash or flare
Beyond my grasp, beyond repair,
I’ve let it go, although I swear
When I was young I used to care.
Maybe, though, this is not the end
For I’m fate’s fool, and fortune’s friend
At no small cost, I’ve paid the price
For Vice’s Verse, and Verse’s vice
It shouldn’t seem so uninspired
to revive revenants desired
So set thy mind to inquiry
as to avoid mem’ry’s expiry
If hopes sprang up like little seeds
I’d bed a garden, full of weeds
the harvest hidden: heart’s held crush
Lies tangled in the underbrush
Though perhaps hopes aren’t quite organic
Perpetuity demands perpetual panic
For if a second slips away
It seems that dreams fall fallow, gray
Instead, If I were You or Me
I’d advise, or so you see,
To devise some strange secret plot
So that these loves won’t be forgot
And though it may seem convoluted,
all of it could be transmuted
Again, If I were you or me.
But if either of you or me were I
Then I suppose we’d both ask “why”
And once we sniffed the non-nonsense
We’d catch our-self under false pretense
Then let these words whicker anon
and from thine eyes let thee begone!
I’d say to black out days gone by -
If either you or me were I
( For though my aim’s intent, acuity,
I’ll hide behind sweet ambiguity
Though within each capricious whim
I’d slide a vicious homonym
And If I used used my wit’s facility
I could maintain deniability
So if one should ask, I should say “know”
The truth - it hurts! I love it so!)
janainaart
jacobvanloon
germansingergirl
origamiaround
dailybridgerton