Poem of the day

As I slowly try to tune my ear into poetry, I'm collecting pieces I like into a Google doc. (Where would life be without Google docs, dear readers?) And every week day I try to share one of these through Google+. (Life without Google+, on the other hand, would be extremely close to life with Google+, only with less moaning on the tech blogs.)

Anyway. This is the poem I am sharing today - it came to me via a friend from Jolisa Gracewood, in return for the review(ish) I wrote last week.

A Contribution to Statistics


Out of a hundred people

those who always know better-- fifty-two

doubting every step-- nearly all the rest,

glad to lend a handif it doesn't take too long-- as high as forty-nine,

always goodbecause they can't be otherwise-- four, well maybe five,

able to admire without envy-- eighteen,

suffering illusionsinduced by fleeting youth-- sixty, give or take a few,

not to be taken lightly-- forty and four,

living in constant fearof someone or something-- seventy-seven,

capable of happiness-- twenty-something tops,

harmless singly, savage in crowds-- half at least,

cruelwhen forced by circumstances-- better not to know
even ballpark figures,


wise after the fact-- just a couple more
than wise before it,


taking only things from life-- thirty
(I wish I were wrong),


hunched in pain,
no flashlight in the dark-- eighty-three
sooner or later,


righteous-- thirty-five, which is a lot,

righteousand understanding-- three,


worthy of compassion-- ninety-nine,


mortal-- a hundred out of a hundred.Thus far this figure still remains unchanged.

Wislawa Szymborska


If you fancy more daily doses (and the odd weird insight into my internal working) feel free to come find me in the depths of Google+.