Yet Again

Yet again
the relentless chatter,
embarrassingly inane;

the world is too much
with us,

a rebuke to our soft lives.

We are forever picking out constellations 
from these days,
to fit who
and where we are. 

The present rearranges the past.
We never  tell the story completely, 
because a life
isn’t a story;

it’s a whole Milky Way of occasions.

3 thoughts on “Yet Again

  1. Oh dear. Relentless and embarrassingly inane chatter. That’s such a sad and depressing way to start a poem that then turns so positive and encouraging, with the present rearranging the past and our lives being a Milky Way of occasions – even for those who have good hearts but just can’t help but relentlessly chatter…


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