My Life, My Worthless Life Poem by Gary Witt

My Life, My Worthless Life

Rating: 4.8

If innocence and wonder together
Are the true foundation of wisdom
(And they are, you know they are)
Then innocence has not been lost
But is something we must achieve;
And wonder does not come naturally,
But only arrives after fretful years
Of not knowing.

Sean North 25 July 2007

it's short, but for me, needed to be read aloud, and for me a few times, to even siNk iN, as it SEtTLeD iN, mOsT ComFoRtaBLy, Mr WiTT

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Ana Monnar 24 September 2007

Very deep thoughts full of wisdom. Great poem.

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Hans Ostrom 13 November 2007

I like this one a lot. It's longer than an epigram, but it has the same feel. I like the reversal of having to 'learn' wonder, which we too often associate exclusively with childhood. The title reminds of me of the James Wright poem in which he's lying in a hammock at a friend's farm; the poem ends, 'I have wasted my life.'. . Well done.

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That is one of the most thought-provoking pieces I have read this week. Shame on you for making me think unpaid. Stunning. t x

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Taelyr Vecchione 14 January 2008

Very interesting..................... I like it

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Smiley Hooker 19 July 2009

Very deep thoughts. No one is perfect but we can work on to become a better person. The wonder arrives when we allow ourselves to embrace the beauty of enlightenment. When you can graciously display your wisdom, then your life is not at all worthless. Brilliant piece! :)

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Edward Wright Haile 17 November 2008

If you manage to learn innocence and wonder too boot, you are already wise and your foundation, unidentified, has long since been laid. From what I gather in this line up, most see this as about an unsowing, or turning about in the wrong path.

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Augustus Egg 10 August 2008

i think i might be beginning to regret already my last comment...

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Augustus Egg 10 August 2008

gary, if innocence is something we must achieve, are we until then guilty of something?

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Carole Eilertson 03 July 2008

Love the way you turn things on their head and force the reader to reevaluate received wisdom. The poem is a tool to extract thought and reflection: like a Zen koan, or a distorting mirror at a fun fair in which perchance you catch your own reflection and for a split second are forced to reassess your own reality

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