The Light of Destiny
 
   You may not need a permit
   to become a poet-hermit,
but you’d better have a high degree of nerve.
   You must cultivate ambition,
   not rely on recognition,
as you’ll seldom get the credit you deserve.
 
   You may have lost your shelter
   an’ be livin’ helter-skelter,
but you’ll find a friend who points you to the light.
   She might be that French reporter.
   So, you move across the water,
an’ you stretch yourself. You wanna treat her right.
 
You may well believe in Jesus,
or it might be those Maltesers,
but you’d best watch out with these, as
they can make you awful fat.
You may dwell in constant sorrow,
carin’ little for tomorrow,
forced to beg an’ steal an’ borrow.
There ain’t nothing wrong in that.
 
   You may prefer to settle
   for a hammock an’ a kettle,
never worryin’ if everybody knows
   that you scratch your travel itchin’
   dancin’ naked in your kitchen,
because that’s enough to keep you on your toes.
 
   You may be good at poker,
   or just love to play the joker,
an’ to play it as your one and only card.
   Keep on countin’ on your sanity
   to understand humanity.
Take courage from the fact that you’re the bard.
 
You may drink so much malt whisky
that your liver count is risky.
It’ll either make you frisky
or just send you off to sleep.
You may think one late November,
Christ, it’s comin’ on December!
Till you suddenly remember
you’ve no promises to keep.

Duncan Gillies MacLaurin


If you have any thoughts about this poem, Duncan Gillies MacLaurin  would be pleased to hear them