Seasons

Life is full of change.

Some people are really good

At hiding changes in their life,

 

At least for a while,

Until life wears them down.

Some people you can tell

 

Right away that something

Has changed in their life,

But you still have to wait

 

To see how everything pans out.

Most of us don’t handle change

Very well.  Even good change.

 

As they say all around,

“We are creatures of habit.”

But life has a way,

 

Even for those who are lucky,

Of bending your will.

Call it God, call it fate,

 

Or just luck.  Sooner

Or later, there is going

To be a change.

 

When things are going well,

We fear it.

When life is hitting us hard,

 

We hope and pray for it.

And either way,

Most of us,

 

Do a funny thing—

We try to control it!

But those of us

 

Who have tried with

Everything we’ve got

And lost—

 

We know that life

Is like the weather.

There are seasons.

 

And within those

Seasons of life,

Anything can happen.

 

One thing is for sure,

And that’s nothing.

You just take

 

What life gives you,

And don’t worry

About the rest.

 

 

(Writer’s Island

Week #19 prompt: Season)

 

Ambition

I used to be a very ambitious person.

I used to dream of world peace.

I used to think I would have a great job,

Like a world leader, and then, maybe

 

A college professor in Humanities.

I used to be the kind of person

That might have believed in the saying,

“So little done.  So much to do.”

 

Well, I never was good in groups,

So I wouldn’t do well in the United Nations.

I can’t read very fast, so

Graduate school was not for me.

 

Even after my mental illness hit me,

My ego fought long and hard for something

BIG, something to wrap my dreams around.

Finally I settled.

 

I got a real job, working to pay the bills.

That’s when everyday life hit me square in the face.

That’s when I learned that there are two kinds of people:

Those who make decisions, and those who carry them out.

 

And I found myself to be the latter.

No glory in being a producer,

No recognition in making a buck.

At least for most of us.

 

I guess that’s part of growing up.

You realize you’re not as strong

As you thought you were.

You realize that there is always

 

Someone else who knows more than you.

And, the hardest, you come to see

That there is never enough money.

And dreamers don’t get paid for dreaming.

 

 

(Carry on Tuesday #107, prompt:

The last words spoken by Cecil Rhodes

before his death in 1902)

Changes

I used to be concerned with

How much I did,

Or how much I didn’t do,

 

Evaluating whether or not

I was up to snuff

With my own priorities,

 

And of course,

Whether or not

I kept my wife happy.

 

Lately, things have

Taken a different turn.

Since my body

 

Has seen fit

To rebel against me,

And my doctor

 

Doesn’t seem able

To reign things in,

My priorities have

 

Changed quite a bit.

In fact, the term

“priorities” doesn’t

 

Seem to fit anymore,

Not for how most

People think about it.

 

My biggest priority

Is my medicine.

That’s not a new one,

 

At least on the surface,

Since I’ve had bipolar

For over 15 years,

 

And been taking meds

For just as long.

But now it makes

 

An immediate,

Drastic difference.

And the long-term risk

 

Without it,

Is terrifying.

It’s like food

 

And water.

And the third need,

Common to all of us,

 

But more drastic for me,

Is sleep.  More specifically,

I have to keep my sleep

 

In order.  I have to take

A strong round of meds

Throughout the day,

 

And then really

Pulverize my mind

With meds

 

At the end of the day,

Just so I can sleep.

And I have to start

 

A methodic relaxation,

Early, despite being

A night person.

 

Otherwise,

I will not be getting up

For work in the a.m.

 

Obviously,

Things have changed

A little bit.

 

(Poetic Asides

Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 133

“Priorities”)