Cassius Clay/Muhammed Ali died last week and will have his funeral on Friday and he wrote some poetry.
Muhammad Ali Quotes Poems including
'Will they ever have another fighter who writes poems, predicts rounds, beats everybody, makes people laugh, makes people cry, and is as tall and extra pretty as me?'
He floated like a butterfly,
he stung like a bee,
the hand can't hit,
what the eye can't see.
His passing reminded me of an old radio programme that was
introduced with the words at the top of this blog. Friday Night is
Music Night. As a child I often fell asleep listening to the gentle,
pulsating, tones of music written by long dead composers. I
decided to look up some old stuff.
Taken very much for granted
the mystical beating heart,
throbbing, pulsating powerfully
keeping life and death apart.
Day and night working unsung
from consciousness’s flow chart
four chambers – rooms of existence
travailed before real life did start.
Amazingly resilient to the abuse
that tries to pierce as a dart
it continues to pound life-giving use
obesity, smoking, drinking to thwart.
As strong as it is there is a delicacy
God may have chosen to impart
before birth and conscious malignity
perhaps causing premature depart.
It holds all life in its chambers
hopefully healthy from the start.
That pulsing, throbbing lovely organ
the almost tireless human heart.
© David L Atkinson July 2014
That one is something old, not that old really but in terms of 2
poems each week for two years - earlier.
I took ownership of a new car today and it inspired the poem below.
Periodically one notices aging,
every created object suffers,
there is no way of period avoiding,
no way of stopping time at the buffers.
People can’t avoid the fact,
no way of repairing odd bits,
just become accustomed, use some tact,
to those with botox and plastic tits
Look to the new and prepare the world
to be a better place,
than the one that we unfurled,
when entering the human race.
© David L Atkinson June 2016