Treasure Island

Daniel Trevelyn Joseph

(21 December 1945 / Mumbai, India)

Tapering


The year was 1949 or 50, I was four or five years old:
The place was near the well in our house in Zambropuram,
In Madurai. I am taking a long time having bath,
Mom comes in and asks why, I reply, 'I want to be fair like
Kiruba my cousin and so I am applying soap, hard on myself'!

Later in life I always did things excessively,
Read more books than in the syllabus,
Took more tablets to speed up the cure,
Did the exercises more often expecting faster effect.
If teacher said ten reps, I did 20 or at least 15.

Wife would comment that I did not have the virtue
Of moderation, and that I did things way beyond necessity.
As usual she is right, but then from childhood
I seem to have been like that and why change now?

Nearing the end of my seventh decade, I am doing
Structured Life Review and this is a reminiscence.
Just finished reading May Sarton the Journal of
A Solitude and felt the justice of Kathopanishad

Which says, 'The senses of the body ebb and flow~
That is their nature.
Knowing this, the wise do not lament their passing away.'

Submitted: Saturday, February 15, 2014

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Tapering by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. A Dream Within A Dream
    Edgar Allan Poe

PoemHunter.com Updates

Poem of the Day

poet Alfred Lord Tennyson

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]