HIGHER CALLING
These days my job distracts me from my work.
Don’t get me wrong. I do like getting paid
a few bucks for board and bed, some small perks,
perhaps a book, perhaps a wife to trade
resentment for resentment. See? I’ve strayed
from my point, which is my point: my life
distracts me from my purpose. Getting laid,
raising kids, being brave to love my wife
in a landscape I have seeded till rife
with landmines, and telling a pissed-off boss
whose intellect is like a carving knife
that his equations are leading to loss
make me feel too tired and old to make time
for whatever height it was I was to climb.
I feel your pain, brother. These days we are spread so thin, and not always in pretty colors.
Sounds like an awake man to me. Right on, Peter.
Wow, Peter. I never expected a sonnet. Good job.
It’s a sonnet that cuts deeply. I love the way the drama of the poem drives the meter, and not the other way around. Bravo, BW
Ah! You, Peter, are the brave one. Baring your soul in print. Cheers n love.
I feel your pain. I admire your spirit. You have made my life better.