A poem at bedtime

I sit at this dining room table typing, hoping
words to converge, converse into something, anything
resembling a poem. I am tired & need to get some sleep
and yet this is what I am choosing to do. Feeling
the cold tile under my bare feet reassures me that I am not sleeping
Not yet, anyway. I leave this blog in the hopes that perhaps my dreams
Will conjure up something more substantial in sleep than I am while (still) awake.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEP0_Rgd9bE

I used to listen to this tune by Bots all of the time , there is that word again, many many years ago.

It is another evening - despite the fact that it is now 2011. There year could have started at any other point during the previous 365 days - and it has in the past. There is not enough time tonight for me to discuss time spent, time saved, time wasted - but it just reminded me of a portion of a poem by T.S. Eliot -

Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future,
And time future contained in time past.
If all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable.
What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.

from the 4 quartets (burnt norton) by T.S. Eliot

Here for the first time - my new blog ab
out poetry and everything else

It is 10:31 am and I am at a friend's house in Maitland FL where we have just completed taking down the Christmas lights from the front of his house and on the bushes. It is a bit chilly down here but at least there is not any snow on the ground like there was on a recent visit to Baltimore.