Day 11 – game

Again a brush with formal poetry…

 

It’s all a game you cannot win

a back and forth and forth and back

a miracle of force and strength

that rolls the die and moves us out

and in this game of feint and lunge

we die, we start over again

at the beginning, gods and men

on the same chequer board of nights

and days. But we are so played out

so tired now, barely able

to move, and none original

the moves of life we plot and twist

in this old game of night and smoke

in this old game of love and mist

april’s cruelest springtime joke

 

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