The day that I was seventy-five
was not a happy one
at all
I was still glad to be alive
although I had no fun
at all.
Confined to bed in hospital
is after all no place
for fun
but I was philosophical
put on a happy face
for fun.
Poetic Bloomings offered up a highly prescriptive form to try: it must be about a holiday or anniversary in two six-line stanzas: Line 1: 8 syllables, Line 2: 6 syllables, Line 3: 2 syllables, Line 4: 8 syllables, Line 5: 6 syllables Line 6: 2 syllables Repeat for the second stanza. The rhyme scheme is: a/b/c/a/b/c for each of the two stanzas.
Your motto should be ‘Keep Calm and Write Poetry’. Mine, at the moment, is ‘Keep Calm and Go and Talk to the Guinea Pigs’.
I will try and live to that motto!
Spending any birthday in hospital is not good. Hopefully, you are on the way to a full recovery.
Nice one, Viv. “Always make the best of a bad job,” I was taught.
Interesting form & well executed, V. Salute.
Happier days ahead, one hopes.
Gosh Viv, that was good work. That’s a restrictive form! Thought for a minute if I could do that and decided not in a million years. Very well done, and, if you wrote this from experience, way to keep up the Dunkirk spirit and I wish you much good health.
That made me so sad for you; not the turning 75 part, that should be celebrated, but the spending your birthday in the hospital part. A birthday shouldn’t be spent in a hospital but they did take care of you so we are all thankful for that.
Thank you ViV…
it’s difficult to have a milestone birthday, feel “happy” and be in the hospital all at once. Thanks for sharing…wish you WELL the rest of the year.
Peace,
Sad but pragmatic
Nice Viv and after all, what can one do but make the best of the bit we are in.x