Procrastination: a poem,

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Abstract

onger here, The loves I left behind,The documents from former jobs, The places I have been, Seems to overwhelm me, As if stumbling into sin.People no longer with us, The paperwork I regret to see, All combined in stacks and stacks, In the only room that is purely me.If it’s only me in there, Why am I afraid, The past that I don’t want to face, Memories on parade.A stream of what might have been, Yet I claim I have no regrets, Doesn’t mean I want to salt the wound, It’s better to forget.Another picture of my first husband, Another reminder of the one who died, I can’t hold back the pain of recollection, No matter how hard I tried.A rare picture of my best friend, Who passed so long ago, What would she say if she were here, I guess I’ll never know.And yet I hold on, Knowing that in truth, I can’t forget but can forgive, A spoiled and rotten youth.I forgive myself of toying with others, Although it was not my intent, I was looking for love in all the wrong places, The hours that I spent.One was sweet, and one was kind, One was hotter than the flames of hell

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, One was rich, and one was artistic, But no one put me under a spell.I never swooned, or swayed, I never found the rhythm or beat, I danced with many at the ball, But never swept up off my feet.In time I would learn love, I would leave Never-never land, I would mature, and grow, In time, to understand.I should check my mail again, Where did I put that pen, I should tidy up the kitchen, And here I go again.As if the room does not exist, Or there are monsters just inside, And if I keep the door closed tight, Perhaps somehow I’ll hide.I won’t have to travel memory lane, I won’t deal with so much time gone by, I won’t deal with pain, and loss again, I can prevent the tears I cry.Perhaps I should do it tomorrow, Get a brand new start, Allow myself time to wallow, And then take myself apart.No time like today, The words sound sincere, Oh if only I hadn’t started this, That room would disappear.Yet it is my burden, No one can set it up but me, But do I design my own prison, And how do I set myself free?a poem by D. Wyn. Price, All Rights Reserved, 2020</article></body>

Procrastination: a poem,

Perhaps I’ll make breakfast, And I should also fill my cup, Never have too much coffee, But rather not enough.

I should wash the dishes, That’s the responsible thing to do, I should go ahead and reply, Send my thanks to you.

Perhaps I’ll do some writing, Those things that get me paid, Update my profile, In hopes I can get laid.

I should clean out the car, Get a load of laundry started, Everything but what I should do, Feeling so downhearted.

I should finish the office, Get everything in it’s place, Organize, and sanitize, Make it a welcome space.

The papers contain memories, The pictures do remind, Of all the friends no longer here, The loves I left behind,

The documents from former jobs, The places I have been, Seems to overwhelm me, As if stumbling into sin.

People no longer with us, The paperwork I regret to see, All combined in stacks and stacks, In the only room that is purely me.

If it’s only me in there, Why am I afraid, The past that I don’t want to face, Memories on parade.

A stream of what might have been, Yet I claim I have no regrets, Doesn’t mean I want to salt the wound, It’s better to forget.

Another picture of my first husband, Another reminder of the one who died, I can’t hold back the pain of recollection, No matter how hard I tried.

A rare picture of my best friend, Who passed so long ago, What would she say if she were here, I guess I’ll never know.

And yet I hold on, Knowing that in truth, I can’t forget but can forgive, A spoiled and rotten youth.

I forgive myself of toying with others, Although it was not my intent, I was looking for love in all the wrong places, The hours that I spent.

One was sweet, and one was kind, One was hotter than the flames of hell, One was rich, and one was artistic, But no one put me under a spell.

I never swooned, or swayed, I never found the rhythm or beat, I danced with many at the ball, But never swept up off my feet.

In time I would learn love, I would leave Never-never land, I would mature, and grow, In time, to understand.

I should check my mail again, Where did I put that pen, I should tidy up the kitchen, And here I go again.

As if the room does not exist, Or there are monsters just inside, And if I keep the door closed tight, Perhaps somehow I’ll hide.

I won’t have to travel memory lane, I won’t deal with so much time gone by, I won’t deal with pain, and loss again, I can prevent the tears I cry.

Perhaps I should do it tomorrow, Get a brand new start, Allow myself time to wallow, And then take myself apart.

No time like today, The words sound sincere, Oh if only I hadn’t started this, That room would disappear.

Yet it is my burden, No one can set it up but me, But do I design my own prison, And how do I set myself free?