Poem by Wendy Vaizey
Sonnet 01
Do not waste time on building monuments
To be admired when your life has faded;
Postponing festival and merriment
Is gladness against vanity traded.
Stoke up hot fires against your own demise
Not by eternal lines of progeny:
Descendents are oblivion disguised,
And these books no more than taxidermy.
But a thousand transitory pleasures
When thought and senses are at their sharpest,
Bathed in flesh and grass, forgetting measure,
Build up a bank for when nights are darkest.
Remember to never postpone your bliss,
And hope not to be left with only this.
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Wendy Vaizey lives in London. She has worked as an investment banker and as a columnist for The Times, London. Her stories have been published in print and online magazines, including The Sunday Express Magazine and Literary Potpourri.
She can be reached at: Literary PotpourriGO TO NEXT PAGE
