Bowled Over

 

 

            Row upon row of skittles remain,

One score year on Earth was their worth,

Many scored by scars of living without

Stain of education, or varnish for

A fine illuminous finish,

 

 

            Many skittles remain

Waiting in line row upon row;

Dull and dormant of life –

They wait inside the lanes

Restricting alley,

And inevitably; resigned

Like lemmings to a callous pre-determined

            Fate, they tally a figure

For the reaper to chalk.

 

 

            Unable to move –

Conditioned not to move

But accept the un-godliest of games,

They are there dispassionate

To face the bearer of the ball,

            But one by one they fall,

Keeping alive the pall bearer before

His throng,

 

 

            The mist clears in the

Valleys of this land,

And a million tired of life before giving life,

Stretch like deadwood,

Dropping hollow and headshot,

Down upon life,

Down behind curtains,

Down upon carpets,

Down upon urban expansions

Of nothing but concrete,

Down in their gaze to a blank

thoughtless floor.

  

 

Michael J Waite 22^ndJanuary 2010.