WHAT A PILE!
The junk heap of humanity contains
not only bottles, cans, and ruined cars
but, more and more, the vast and mighty brains
of everyone -- from bums to movie stars.
As new events keep spinning us around,
compelling us to wonder where we are,
we seldom find the time to deeply sound
our sense of whether things have gone too far.
We plow ahead as if we scarcely care
that nothing feels as pleasant as before,
and as the years evaporate we stare
contentedly at what we should abhor.
The sorry truth is that we all may die
without quite giving life some lively try.

That was a good sonnet Bruce! ~Scott

Dear **Scott**: As it argues along,
that sonnet perhaps can't be wrong.
The crux of its being
seems caught in untreeing
a feline as ancient as song.

Good one, Bruce.

Dear **Eunice**: I guess that that sonnet
has numerous bees in its bonnet.
I felt rather sure
that every great cure
had something ~right hostile~ upon it.

well done bruce truth again jimmy

Yes indee you certainly tell us a pile of truth

Dear **Jimmy** & **Lovely Doreen**:
My lines may at times have a sheen.
I proffer some stating
as if I were freighting
the world with some foods lank and lean.

Innteresting poem Bruce.. and yes we will all die one day despite however much of a pile we accumulate.

Dear **Gilly**: As you've pointed out
we dwell in large versions of doubt.
Our grandiose visions
include indecisions
that often should urge us to pout.