​Who's to say
When morning has lost its glory?
Who's to say
When the bloom is off the rose?
Who's to say
When the girl with one pearl earring
Becomes a grandmother with a garden hose?

Not for me
A life of sadness.
Not for me
A life alone.
As long as I
Have love and friendship,
The songs of youth
Will warm my home.

By now, you know
That all that glistens
Isn't golden like they said
And every dollar that you fought for
Will be worthless
Once you're dead.

So come with me
On life's adventure,
Leave your baggage
At the door.
Grab your stick, your cane, your walker
And follow the sun, the moon, the stars.
 
Rosalind Resnick
Nov. 24, 2015

Choices --
Too many.
Regrets --
Too few.
You, you, you, not you,
Maybe you. Or you.
Coffee, lunch, a drink?
It's been a long day,
A long week, a long year.
Too much work,
Too much stress.
Too tired to go out.
It's late.
Just throw on your clothes
And come over.
We'll watch a movie,
Drink some wine
And dream
About someone
We loved long ago
Back when we were young
And happiness was something
You could touch and feel.
You, you, you, not you,
Maybe you. Or you.
Regrets --
Too many.
Choices --
Too few.
 

Rosalind Resnick
Nov. 17, 2015

Fuck the moon,
It's much too far away to offer inspiration.
It's cold and distant and shines only in the Sun's reflected glory.
Embrace the world
Like a big squishy orange
And bathe shamelessly in its sticky juices.
Don't be afraid to fail.
Unless you are very good or very lucky,
Your poems will not change the world.
It is too big, and nobody on this planet really cares about anyone except themselves.
So write your poems on sycamore bark that you find on the street or rocks that you find by the river.
Write them on your phone, a napkin, a receipt from a taxi cab.
Write as if you were writing the very last poem you will ever write.
Just write.

Translation:

Abbraccia il mondo

Basta con la luna!
È troppo lontana da offrirti nessun ispirazione.
E' fredda e distante e si illumina solo dalla gloria rifletta del sole.
Abbraccia il mondo
Come se fosse un'arancia grande e succulente.
E lavati senza vergogna nel suo liquido appiccicoso.
Non avere paura di fallire.
A meno che tu non hai o grande talento o buona fortuna,
Le tue poesie non cambieranno il mondo.
È troppo grande e nessuno che vive in questa pianeta
Pensa a qualcuno tranne se stesso.
Allora scrivi le tue poesie sulla corteccia di un albero o sulle pietre che trovi vicino al fiume.
Scrivile sul tuo telefonino, un fazzoletto di carta o una ricevuta di taxi.
Scrivile come queste fossero le ultime poesie che scriverai nella tua vita.
Basta scrivere!
 
Rosalind Resnick
Nov. 10, 2015