Today is the deadline for the last poem of 2023 in Deadlines for Writers. The prompt is "Thrill." I found this a hard topic and ended up writing my poem late yesterday, determined to just have an entry, however lame, to submit. In late life, few people are still the thrill-seekers they might have been in their younger days.
Remembered Thrills
It comes to me sometimes in my dreams -
Memory of carefree youth.
When life was all challenge and thrill and risk,
And death was intangible truth.
No dare was too great for omnipotent me -
No mountain too tall to climb;
No ocean or cavern too deep to explore
And be home before dinnertime.
“Fear? What’s fear? You’re kidding me, right?
It’s not too dark out there!”
I always believed if it came to that,
I could easily outrun a bear!
I no longer need a thrill a day.
I’m happy to dream thrills instead,
I don’t have to prove I’m alive anymore.
I take all my risks here in bed.
2 comments:
Love it! You always come through with a great poem or story.
Thanks, Carol! I literally wrote this one in five minutes and just before I went to bed the night before deadline
Post a Comment