Monday, January 25, 2021

There Be Oz

image from

 There Be Oz

“Common folk live and die unnoticed. Folks of any

worth are the unusual ones.”--Scarecrow  


the winter

of my life

slogs along,

and I

approach the

Exit, the


is 76 years

behind me.


the maternal


was closed

for business

eons ago.

The actual way

to Transition,

beyond the veil,

is not paved

with yellow bricks.

Glenn Buttkus


Posted over at d'Verse Poet's Pub


brudberg said...

I am a few years behind you, but there are days where I feel that those yellow bricks are just an illusion... said... only have three years on me, my friend. Your ending here reminded me of what our Aunt Flo used to say --- she was a Commander in the US Navy in WWII and worked with Admiral Nimitz . . . "Old age isn't for sissies!"

Kim M. Russell said...

A wistful quadrille, Glenn. You are a bit further along the way than I am, but I can already feel the winter of my life in my bones. I’ve never seen yellow bricks outside of Oz.

Misky said...

An oil can is very useful though...

Mish said...

I've always been afraid of anything "wizard of oz-ish". As a child, the movie only conjured up feelings of doom and powerlessness for me. I know, I'm weird.
I think your path will be whatever colour you paint it, my friend....and here's to not needing it for a very long time.

Ron. Lavalette said...

Here I stand, under the rainbow, wishing my brown, muddy road were more brickly paved. No matter; as long as I have something good -- like this poem -- to read along the way...

JadeLi said...

I love that opening quote, Glenn, and like the analogy you build here, wonderful wizardry.

indybev said...

You're all children to me! I'm beyond the bricks and treading air! Enjoyed the poem, Glenn.

Ken Gierke said...

It’s been no road of yellow brick
that I’ve had on my way
but, disregarding politics,
I haven’t been dismayed

Helen said...

79 for me .... hoping it's paved with rose petals bottles of champagne! Cheers.

Arcadia Maria said...

Nice poem about reflecting on one's mortality.

Dwight L. Roth said...

Interesting take on the prompt Glen. I say, being dead is not a problem, it the process of dying that has me concerned! said...

Reading your fine piece, I thought of Basho the 17th century Japanese poet - who set off in his dotage on a hike - The Narrow Road to the Deep North. Knowing he'd probably never return to his home he said something like if you steer a boat or drive a horse over the earth, then you are a traveller and you will succumb to time. Oddly, I found that, like your poem cheering.

ben Alexander said...

This is so real. I felt like I was experiencing life through your eyes, Glenn.


Ingrid said...

This was very moving, Glenn.

Jane Dougherty said...

Self-identify as an immortal. I self-identify as being 36. It's worked fine so far.

M. Jay Dixit said...

Keep rocking, good sir! This was very moving. It reminds me of my uncle, who is an unusual sort for sure but he's a good soul :)

Linda Lee Lyberg said...

Life ages us all, some more than others. Today I feel old, although you have about 10 years on me. You are so astute at getting to the core of things.

robkistner said...

I hear you brother! Bricks or absolute awareless silent void — I settle for either, I’m tired. Although the bricks would indicate further to go. Not certain I am up for that anymore?

Kerfe said...

Maybe it is yellow bricks, who knows? But we all know where we're headed, even if we don't know exactly what we'll find.

Gillena Cox said...

Ah, that yellow brick road. Nice one Glen