On What to Do Next

[Wilyem Clark]

Is there no end, no end to the nothing,
Even a nothing that brims with somethings?
Trivial day-to-day acts of frustration,
Place-holders, routines in lieu of crescendos!
In tense apprehensive anticipation
We toe-tap and drum and frazzle our brains,
Tick-tock and talk away qualm after qualm.
What next? What next?
Another birthday, another eclipse,
A comet, a curse, and a random shooting;
The death of a nation, the birth of a star;
Lives spent in traffic, in books,
Or treadmilling, toiling at cyclical jobs;
All revolving . . . and often revolting, too.
Our own revolutions are always at hand,
Just over the rise and ready to rise
Like the sun, a purifying poke in the eyes
That glares, that blinds, that awes us
And simmers us in brash new endeavors.
But we don't change gears easily;
Disrupt what comforts we have claimed,
And at such a height? Risky ropewalk, that.
What next? What next?
Seems indecent to ask; I ask all the same:
What's my genuine task?

[Mohammad Ahmad]

We toe-tap and drum and frazzle our brains,
Tick-tock and talk away qualm after qualm.
OK, I am fallen admiring in those sounds and moving
Isn't there a blade racking my head!
life is likely an internment bending my steed
Oh thou heard me a package of an innocent feed
Excuse me once I am jealous to read
Oh dear friend your poetry enough enhancing me to believe that poetry language is a tickling form from heart to heart

'

[YesNo]

I liked the "ready to rise" and "poke in the eyes" rhyme.