Time

Just fooling around with this one...it turned out better than I thought it would.

I never had the chance I wanted, 
never got the breaks — not me —
seldom saw the sights so vaunted,
not blue moon nor raging sea.

Chances passed me by refused
by casual indifference on my part
things I might have had or used
left by the wayside, beside my heart.

Coldness was my song of life
chill my days and my hardened ways
abandoned children and my wife
that I might stand between the stays.

Regrets do not become a man
who chose freely and without regard
for others' course or greater plan
and walked away without a word.

Still, I would do it better now
if chance to choose anew was mine
I'd turn my back and to fate I'd bow
tend my vinyard, sip my wine.

I leave so little, it must sadly be…
nor brag to any of mighty deeds.
The days of choice are far behind me,
but still I smile at what I've seen.

Reviews

[Jonathan Ballam]

This felt like a Yeats ballad, your rhyme and meter were spot on. Normally I'm VERY weary of rhyming since I think it can kill poetry. Although you clearly have a skilled hand in the craft, and this poem just seemed to work, and resonate with in me.

Call me a traditionalist, the only complaint I have is the rather jagged layout out of this poem. Even if you want to keep it in a grid format, rather add some spaces between paragraphs

[cest la vie]

Synronicity must be in the air! I recently wrote something mirroring these sentiments. This has a soft meloncholy touch, yet just enough life squeezed in to make this piece have a hopeful ending. I love the layout and your verses just roll of the tongue. Another fine write!!