One more of the poems from a notebook of about 25 years ago. Re-reading them, I am slightly surprised to find I rather like a lot of them, still. Although my style has altered considerably, my sentiments are still much the same. Which is as you would expect, I suppose.
But there are plenty that I certainly won’t be inflicting upon you!
As hard as ice and twice as cold,
The devil that is growing old;
Who taunts our bodies’ feeble frames,
And takes our minds – forgetting names.
As cold as ice and twice as hard,
The back that’s bent, the hand that’s scarred.
The face that’s worn and lined with sorrow,
The fear there may be no tomorrow.
The fear tomorrow may come yet,
And bring us more embarrassment,
But how we cling with greedy hands,
To these poor fragile, shallow, lands!
Terrible cruel it is, Mick. Well caught, at a time when you surely only knew such things out of books!
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Sort of, Frank. We all have older relatives, of course, and we watch them and listen to them all the time (especially if we have aspirations to write!).
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hehehe theft by relativity. Works a treat over here, as well.
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Nice phrase!
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yup – it just rolled off my aunty …
Sorry, I’ll stop, now.
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But how we cling with greedy hands,
To these poor fragile, shallow, lands!
These lines hit somewhere deep inside. Beautiful and heartbreaking 🙂
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Thanks, Ashima.
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Nice
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Thanks.
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OMG! I love this! Excellent! Really moved me.
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Thank you! Most kind!
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My wrinkly hands, my creaky spine will live another day
My wayward mind, my wayward mind…what did I say?
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Ha…welcome aboard, Himanshu!
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Poignant yet beautiful words.
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Thanks, Steph.
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Great poem!
And how wonderful, to rediscover something you wrote 25 years ago, and find it good stuff.
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Thank you! It is good to do that. Mind you, I’ve no intention of sharing the stuff that looks ghastly now!
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WOW..25 years ago. Lovely poem, beautifully written!
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Thanks, Mariam.
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Cool poem. Glad to see you do the rhyming thing. Makes you think none of us are getting any younger. Wondering about your book as well. What is Making Friends With The Crocodile about.
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Thanks, Edgar. I sometimes do the rhyming thing, sometimes I don’t. The next poem (in a few days – advance warning!) definitely doesn’t!
Making friends With The Crocodile is set in a Northern Indian village, and deals with the perceived role of women in a male dominated society. Just to make things really difficult for myself, I wrote it in the first person as an Indian woman. It has been well received by Indian women, though, so I hope I did something right!
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Beautiful poem, Mick.
“The face that’s worn and lined with sorrow,
The fear there may be no tomorrow”.
These two lines neatly sum up my own sixty years of old at the moment – sad, isn’t it?
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Ellie, you youngster! (I can say that because I’m older!) Thank you for that. Yes, we all come to that, unfortunately. But I feel more positive now than I thought I would when I wrote those lines.
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Nice. And something I can relate to when the sciatica is acting up.
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Ouch! me too, Dave!
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