Poetry With A Mission

...a thought provoking poetical exercise.


On Reflection

Our life is somewhat like a diary, a diary that is filling up fast,
Yes, filling with experiences written with a pen that cannot last.
Sentences and paragraphs document our incredible life journey,
Which we’ll look back on as the pages fill, aware of less agility.

Our life is a story, an unintentional autobiography,
Not a work of fiction, nor some fantasy, but rather, reality.
A record of our actions, both good and bad, (a record sometimes airbrushed),
A story, a journey, a great adventure, too often thoughtlessly rushed.

Yes, a panoramic compilation tracing our life’s activities,
Chapters into which things said and done, or encountered, we over time squeeze.
A very revealing insight into who we are, our thoughts and feelings,
Our choices, our responses, our everyday dealings, our hurts and healings.

Millions of picturesque words conveying frustration, worry and concern,
Perhaps turbulence, difficulty, a rebelliousness, an about turn.
Or maybe joy, an unbounded happiness, moments of ecstatic bliss,
Which, over those chats around the table, or photographs, we’ll reminisce.

Yes, a kaleidoscope of happenings, challenges, risks and surprises,
That one in their later years, and in hindsight, reflects upon, analyses,
Or as life’s frail curtain gradually descends, regrets or celebrates,
And the inevitable dust to dust, peacefully or anxiously awaits.

Our lives are a story that we each get to write, to tell, well or poorly,
A story others will read over time — and hopefully, enjoyably.
For those passages in our diary are windows through which other folk see,
Windows reflecting images, and sometimes very influentially.

Yes, every day each entry is seen by others perusing our diary,
And there are also those who stumble across passages accidentally.
But either way, what our diary conveys, will either attract or repel,
Because the way in which we live our life, much will verify or dispel.

By Lance Landall