Lynn W. Petty
Lynn W. Petty Poems
|122.||The Dark Side Of Love||1/4/2016|
|129.||The Wheel Of Recurrence||12/26/2015|
|131.||Verses Of The Sikh Gurus||12/20/2015|
|132.||What's That You Say?||12/18/2015|
|133.||Frustration Personified This Thing Called Golf||12/19/2015|
|134.||Is There A Greater Fear?||12/21/2015|
|135.||So Long Ago||1/9/2016|
|136.||The Tea Cup Mystery||1/9/2016|
|138.||How Beautiful Is Woman Full With Child||1/20/2016|
|140.||My Wife, In Love And Caring||1/27/2016|
|141.||The Dark Of My Remembrances||9/11/2016|
|142.||My Privileges In Life||4/11/2016|
|143.||A Strong Weaving||1/14/2016|
|144.||Is The Doctor In?||12/20/2015|
|145.||The Bridal Chamber Of Thought||12/18/2015|
|149.||Within My Heart||1/15/2016|
|150.||A Question Of My Own Mortality||1/22/2016|
Comments about Lynn W. Petty
A Question Of My Own Mortality
Time seemed interminable.
A curious and inexplicable apprehension came over me,
As I sat in an elderly care home waiting to visit a friend.
The atmosphere was heavy with quiet confusion.
People wandered about searching and shifting in a
Sort of stolid acquiescence. Their lives recalled as flashes in memory, projecting film images on their thick, gray screen of dementia.
Across from me sat an elderly gentleman whose gaze was a glassy
Expression of inattention. I could see the declinations of his skull
Beneath his facial features. A victim of the grievous ...
When all supply was in the hands of Cause,
Effect was molten primal chaos, held
Within a universal cauldron, rest
Was given to consider what the blend
Would yield. What distillation might there come
When left to steep upon the flame of time?
What essence to be poured or spooned, when time
Had separated dross and grime; when Cause