This week’s poem speaks for itself – how events can modify our views on things. Growing older makes it harder to have a fixed view as life teaches you her love of irony.

Drugs of Irony

Seeking a sense of doing something useful

I’m sorting through papers, old notes,

Notebooks, throwing away, pulling pages.

Find an old poem fuming at drugs industry,

Spread of resistance, careless diagnosis, over medication!

Evil pharmaceutical-industrial-chemical.

This morning I was arguing with my son,

Pleading for him to take his medicine. All of it,

Each nausea inducing capsule and pill,

Even without symptoms, without clear understanding.

Less questions and more fear of risks

When you’re fumbling down cancer’s dark roads.

Nyborg 2017

This week’s poem, brooding on difficult days.

Behind Glass

Lost for words,

A sad state for a poet.

To sift, reduce and clarify an initial pile of words is required.

They are out there,

On the other side of dewy glass

Where life lives on in haste, high humour and holidays.

Behind frosted glass

I watch, rub, tap gently,

Listen to voices distorted by distance and separation

Calendar pages flick past,

Face-to-face, keeping distance,

Pain becomes more solid when outwardly acknowledged.

Nyborg, 2017