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My nightmares are real (happy birthday to me?)

You know I used to think,
That I could weave stories,
By the score. Now I feel
I've lost that flame,
It's not there anymore.

Even though I try so hard,
If I can't find a rhythm.
My mind is like a tub of lard
Slowly melting away.

For how can I find my mind,
As it seems to drift away.
This year's been hard,
Of that I cannot deny.

Maybe that's because I'm feeling my age,
As I've just turned seventy one.
Living in a world full of wars,
With floods and famine for everyone.

So as we try to destroy ourselves,
The world is trying to do the same.
While man is at odds with one another,
We have only ourselves to blame.

Poetry by Alan J Ripley