Ultimate Reflexion

What can I say about this?  Perhaps that I am not in that place myself – just yet.  I can well empathise with people who are.


Golden Madonna Duomo









I feel the sorrow of passing time
Now all the wind has blown,
And in its wake are dying leaves
Whirled like flotsam into piles
On rape’d land – devoid of trees;

Now all the clouds have shed
Their tears for sad goodbyes
And bearing skies turn sunless, grey faces
Towards the gathering floods.

All the children have grown and fled;
Love’s passion has been destroyed
By a bat derived spiky Reaper,
Changing masks at will bequeaths
The ability to cease to breathe.

When does this mind quiet itself,
And memories disperse like gaseous steam?

In the wake of momentous spate
Stones clatter and whimper long,
Uncontrollably grinding,
Rattling, clattering, dryly
Over one another’s dressing –
As they return to volcanic ash.

Oh, have not my months been wasted well –
In pursuit of nothing of great worth?
For now, thoughts lay down in DNA
That they may exist in yet another way.

What Dear Lord, my God,
My cre-a-tor,
Have I done with your dream?




© griffonner 2023
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Your words strike me deeply, every one hit a chord.
Your final versé holds the question I have been asking.
Superb Writing. Sue.


This is very powerful, and the question you pose at the end caps this poem beautifully. I do not believe that humanity is yet qualified to answer that; they have to learn how to open their hearts and see God’s works without adding any colour of their own.


I agree with Sue here. As you say, it is a time of deep introspection. The last strophe comes as a rhetorical question that sums up the poem so well.

Yes, of course. And thank you for sharing the poem.


I’ve pondered this one; read it again, and finding its meaning; for me the year and more lost, or curtailed; and what have I done with my time? So yes, a good one Allen.



I take it you’re not resident in the U.K. Allen? It is interesting, where we all are on our online community. Mrs Dodge and I have coped relatively well through the lockdown; we both have interests other than day-time tv. But we have had close friends and family suffer, so we are not complacent.


Thanks Allen; still – there are worse places to put your feet up; at present I would kill for a bit of sun. BTW, just a question on the poem. You have use rape’d which my spell-check dislikes; is it meant as two syllables – rape-ed?
If not, it seems a wee bit redundant.



Thanks Allen, the two syllables make sense. And re sun, we have it! At last! I even took my shirt off today, and exposed myself!


A Heart-felt cry out for reason and mercy perhaps. As Sue says, every line meaningful and full of emotion. I, too share your thoughts. I, who was up with the sun all my life so spring and summer mornings, would fling my bedclothes back to face the day….Now I lie behind blackened drapes praying for a few more hours of oblivion before I rise to …what?… The seasons have disappeared behind a masked sky and if the silver sun appears at all, I soon see the white planes criss-crossing the blue until it fans out to silver.. deadly, poisonous silver.… Read more »

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