Whittling, whittling a Creator-gifted life away,

Hoping this long pathway leads us not astray.

We heedlessly listen and follow the Man,

Believing he has our best, in his vast plan.

But the hourglass of fate, does not lie,

As we look back with regret, sorrow, and cry.

So much was wasted on frivolous folly,

And entertaining, relentless, jovial jolly.

We did not look deep into the beauty of being,

Wandering without wonder, and not really seeing.

Building and crafting, for a nation, its tools of war,

Leading to fear, strife, and the oozing flow of gore.

For now, I am the creator, to purge out greed and hate,

Grateful for the haves, just before a beckoning gate.

Yes, I am the one, known as, “A Poet Too Late”.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________  
* This poem was published in the book, Eastern Sea Bards Poetry Anthology *

D W Orr
Environmentalist, Weimaraner/Dachshund Companion, Photographer, and Poet-Provocateur
Harford County, Maryland,
Here, where it all began, 256 years ago, in the USA

February 2, 2025

“A Poet Too Late”. Original artwork by Kaoru Yamada “A Poet Too Late”. Original image by Kaoru Yamada.
“She Felt A Presence”. Original artwork by Kaoru Yamada.Original artwork by Kaoru Yamada. “She Felt A Presence”. Original image by Kaoru Yamada.
Too late a poet reading, “A Poet Too Late” (page 315).Too late a poet reading, “A Poet Too Late” (p. 315). Too late a poet reading, “A Poet Too Late” (Page 315).