Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let airplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead, He is Dead
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
-W.H. Auden
This is also the first Wednesday of the month and time for us to share in the Insecure Writer's Support Group.
My greatest insecurity? Not living a life as full and rich as Mr. Bradbury did. And regretting it to my last breath.
Insecure Writer's Support Group hosted by Alex J. Cavanaugh. Good therapy is hard to find. Join us.
Regret is a biggie. The older I get, the more it presses on me.
ReplyDeleteRIP Mr. Bradbury.
Hello there..I got your name from the IWSG..I love the Sarcasm Society badge! Like I need one of those!...I love the poem, but I thought Ray Bradbury was already dead..I mean, I know he is now..but I thought he died years ago...just goes to show what living under a rock will do!
ReplyDeleteAgreed.
ReplyDeleteI take it he just died because no one was blogging about his death this morning.
ReplyDeleteNow go out there and live your life so you have no regrets. :)
Oh, man. Fehrenheit 451 was a great book.
ReplyDeleteBradbury was one of my favorite writers. He lived to a great age, he had a great career, and I can only hope to be even half as successful as he was.
ReplyDeleteCoincidentally, I've been regretting every damned major decision I've ever made. Regrets suck and I know it's all on me. Like Stina said, get out there and live.
ReplyDelete