When will I learn? I ask myself and God.
For I know better—or I thought I did,
Until I find my feet have slipped again
And I have brought disaster on my head.
I’ve been through this before, and every time
I solemnly resolve, with firmest thought,
To always turn my hands to do the work
That I see set before them, in good time
And not delay until the hours grow short—
And then I fail, as time slips swiftly past
Without my more than scarcely noticing,
And all I should have done is left undone.
Pieces of this have been rattling around in my mind for weeks, as events in my life made them more and more apropos, but I only managed to get them together into a single cohesive form in the last few days.
As always, I earnestly welcome your (further) comments, suggestions (perhaps of a real title for this poem?), questions, critique, or other feedback about this or any other part of my work. If you liked this, you can follow this blog, which includes one of my poems nearly every Friday, or read other poems I’ve written (perhaps starting with those linked from one of the “archive” installments, since the full archive is by now, at over two hundred poems, somewhat daunting). You may also share this poem with others, subject to my sharing policy.
This poem is also mirrored on my wiki.