If Life is Meaningless, Why Bother?

 

‘Has life a meaning?’ I posed 

as a theoretical question, once, 

to a couple I knew.

‘Has life a meaning,’ 

she returned, ‘– for whom?’

‘Exactly!’ said he.

I dismissed them in my mind

for poor understanding. 

I was 24.

Now, at 86, I maintain 

it doesn’t matter if life seems – 

or is – without meaning. 

Why bother? Because I happened: 

I have a life. Because I wish to enjoy, 

to savour this (arguably random) gift. 

Because I wish that

it count for something.

If only to me. 

Because, whatever it may or may not 

mean in the grand scheme 

(if there is one), 

I may give it whatever 

personal meaning I choose. And

I do so choose.

Written  for Poets and Storytellers United at Friday Writings #223: Why Bother?  (Also, a poet I admired once told me, 'Philosophy is death to poetry.'  This is an attempt to show that they can sometimes combine with no detriment to either – though, some readers may think that I have produced neither!)

My Bones

The bones of my body

are reinforced now

with calcium injections –

effective. Despite the falls (I 

am old) my bones don’t break.

The bones of my long life, 

however – the scaffolding, 

the structure, holding me, 

enabling me – are words, 

poems. Without them, how lost …

Written for Quadrille $245: Writing Down the Bones  (a title inspired by my all-time favourite book for writers, of the same title, by Natalie Goldberg).

I have been a little unwell recently – nothing to worry about, but it has turned off my poetic inspiration for a few days, and I have indeed felt at a loss. Thank heavens (and dVerse, and in this instance De Jackson aka WhimsyGizmo) for the Quadrille form, to which I can seldom fail to respond. It is 44 words exactly, excluding title, and must include a particular word, this time 'bones'.

In Her Garden

 

Inca nuts (called sacha inchi) grow.

Leave them out in the sun long enough, 

she shows us, and the tough shells burst open 

all by themselves, to release the kernels. 

They’ll save your life in many ways,

she says. But roast before eating!

Also there are purple flowers

called Clitoria for their erotic shape. 

She lifts the blooms from their stems, 

drops them in warm water, which makes it blue, 

then adds a squirt of lemon juice into every glass

and it turns purple. The taste is delicate, sweet.

Her friend the kookaburra comes to her call,

sits on the veranda rail and grins at her I swear

with his big wide clacking beak. She coos at him 

and strokes and fluffs the feathers at the back of his neck.

Often, I know, she feeds him witchetty grubs

she finds for him, foraging down there in her garden.

I'm not doing the full April Poem A Day thing this year, because (a) my son and his partner came for a visit and (b) I got a bit unwell and had to spend a couple of days in hospital, and now am taking things quietly for the next little while. It was very fortuitous that family were here at the right time, to look after me and also after Poppi cat during my brief absence from home. (It was fluid on the lung following a slight head cold which I mistook for the tail end of my Summer allergies. The infection, slight as it was, put a strain on the old heart, and that in turn caused the fluid on the lung. All treated and medicated now and I will follow up with GP straight after Easter. Doctors at hospital are not too worried about me, and I know what symptoms should take me back to the hospital if they occur. So please don't be alarmed.)  Meanwhile, just before all this happened, I had a lovely day at my friend's, as described above, and I did have a look at the first April prompt at Poetic Asides, which was 'seed'.  So I began this poem, which got interrupted by the drama ... and finished it just now, days later. Maybe I'll do a few more poems this April, and maybe they'll be inspired by the prompts. We'll see. But I am definitely not going to attempt the usual frantic marathon!

Sharing with Poets and Storytellers United for Friday Writings #221 April Quotes.  No quotes here, but at least this took place in April – although only the date of posting tells you that.