Little Things of Llife

     To break from the impersonalality of history, science, and social agnst (though they are most satisfying and fulfilling topics!), here is a small poem to celebrate the diversity of the every day life. Not one of my best attempts, but I like it for its simplicity.

The Little Things of Life

These are the things that make me mad.
They are not good at all,
Most of them are bad.
A fast turned winter that skips fall,
Rusty nails stuck in your shoe,
Unrhymed poems, a soggy ball,
A toddler in a pink tutu.

Instead, if I had a chance
I would ask for some of these:
A book so good it makes me prance,
The cedars of the Lebanese,
A quiet place to hide and sleep,
To dive deep down and find a clam,
Soft and gooey mud, knee-deep,
All of this, and plus a yam.

Life, unbalanced, is nonplussed.
Windy storms with lightning strikes,
Your mother yelling in a fuss,
Fishing bass and catching pikes,
Your teacher when you hear her cuss,
A doughnut with some extra glaze,
Getting free rides on a bus,
These surprises do amaze.

Yet my life's mundane.
Rarely have I seen it hail.
No umbrella, and it rains,
Even sometimes, beat by snail,
Oh, Life! You're full of pains!

Yet all these spices do add up.
Bad, good, shock, dull,
Now, let me drink of life, cup.
All this "suffering," has been called.
Cyclic, Fate, or Dualism,
Prepare the food! I will sup.
This is it; I live for Him.
So that's my life, nothing much.

   __    
Agatha Tyche