King Canute
I imagine King Canute, sitting on his throne,
at the seaside, surrounded by his court
as he tries to turn back the rising tide.
Or is he just proving that it can’t be done?
In vain we struggle against the rising waves.
We piss into the wind and try to drown
the thunder with our pitiful, impoverished farts.
Some preachers preach that we are immortal,
but mortal we are, facing such adversaries
as wind, rain, thunder, and the rising tide.
Who nailed us to this cross of cloudy doubt?
I hear crass crows cawing for tomorrow, but
it never comes, and if it does, it becomes today.
Today we must count the cost of every footstep
that leads us again into the Darkest Ages,
and back to the Stone Age, sent there by a rain
of unstoppable destruction, unleashed in our pride.
rogermoorepoet 
Love it my friend. Especially the second verse! You really have a wonderful way with words. I sit at your feet waiting to hear them dropped into my ears.
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What a wonderful image – thank you so much. When I look down at my feet, I see the cat scrounging morsels that I have dropped on the floor – not always accidentally. She is a much more regular visitor now the house is quiet again.
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Oh, I can be very catty at times. I had a dog once that made sure nothing ever touched the floor when I was eating. He could catch whatever it was before it hit. The quiet can sound very loud at times though. Last night it was interrupted several times by thunder such as I haven’t heard in a long time.
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Rules of the kitchen in Wales – anything below table height belongs to the dog. Mind you, the floors weren’t too clean in those days. Industrial grime and coal dust could wreak havoc! It looks stormy here now, so we could have thunder later.
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Sun was out most of yesterday. Since I plan on going out today to do some shopping it will probably rain, but I have a poncho that will cover e and half the block around me. It always seems to rain on my parade but I’m still going out.
The only thing I dropped that I had to close the dog in the bedroom for was a banana pudding. Had been waiting til bedtime to enjoy it, got it almost out of the fridge and dropped it, breaking the bowl it was in and had to pull the dog out so he wouldn’t swallow the glass shards mixed in with the pudding. Got a shard of glass stuck in my foot but didn’t feel it until the next morning when it had swollen. No infection but I had to change the bloody sheets and take them down to the laundry. The floor was sticky for the rest of my stay there. No amound of scrubbing got all that sticky stuff out.
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Ah the adventures of our youth. We had an outhouse in our summer bungalow. We also had a field full of cows that wandered in and out of the houses. And I mean ‘in’ – my gran had one in the kitchen once. Anyway, nothing worse than stepping in a warm cow pat at 3:00 am on the way to the ‘house with the half-moon door’!
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Y tanto que somos mortales.
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El mundo es ansi – Pio Baroja!
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