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Augustus

I had to sell my dozer–

I can no longer push.

My tractor too–

Last harvest sown.

My guitar was sold–

My mind stopped playing.

I sold my house and land–

I need no place to live.

I let the money go–

No longer need I buy.

I gave away my jackets–

My body no longer warm.

I gave away the night–

Never again to dream.

I let go of all fear–

What harm is there now?

 

 

Augustus / Folsom, LA / February 2017

  • Author: Augustus (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: March 4th, 2017 11:42
  • Comment from author about the poem: Letting go of a lifetime collection is something we all must do and it ain't easy.
  • Category: Reflection
  • Views: 29
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Comments7

  • willyweed

    Only the love you have sown, will you reap in the harvest of the spheres ?
    I see you are not a material girl! WW

    • Augustus

      Oh, bless you. That is just what I needed. A Madona comparison. Thanks good bud.

    • Michael Edwards

      No harm at all - an intriguing read.

      • Augustus

        Thanks Michael. I had some reservations.

      • rrodriguez

        No harm done, just a sense of detachment from the material things. So now what's left is you in all its essence. Great write my friend. You've done well.

        • Augustus

          Thanks, you made more sense of that last line than I did. My heart and gut wrote the last part.

        • Tony36

          Well written and expressed Great write

        • MendedFences27

          Forced by Nature to, once again, adapt. Something we've done all of our lives, from childhood, to young adult, to married , to with-children, to middle age, to elder. Now another adjustment means parting with old friends ( such is our collections of junk ) and it is troubling. If we stay focus to making the transition all will be well. A great expression of the sorrow at losing those things that we have clung to our entire lives. Nice one. - Phil A.

          • Augustus

            Thanks Phil for your thoughtfulness.

          • Goldfinch60

            Good write. At sometime we must all let go.

          • Augustus

            Some things are involuntary, like my urine. LOL. Thanks.



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