Tag Archives: Aging

Inevitable

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Inevitable

When I cough, I sputter, and when I sneeze, I spray.
My pet pastime is muttering. I’m trite in what I say—
these candid confessions representative of all
the ways that I’m imperfect—the reasons for my fall.

Once I was a prima-donna—unique in every way—
put up on a pedestal, protected from the fray.
But as I aged, old father time reduced me with his cleaver.
My mind grew vague and spotty. I fell victim to hay fever.

All the glories of the past vanished over time.
It made a simple mortal of what was once sublime.
So, fair warning to young lassies with your skin like peaches.
One day you, too, will fall into Father Time’s cruel reaches.

The prompt words today are pet, cough, representative and unique.

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/01/20/rdp-sunday-dog/Pet
https://fivedotoh.com/2019/01/20/fowc-with-fandango-cough/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/01/20/your-daily-word-prompt-representative-january-20-2019/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/01/20/unique/

Heavenly Retirement

Heavenly Retirement

She was the center of attention, a magical surprise.
She rivaled Cleopatra both in manner and in guise.
Her courtiers all fumbled in their desire to please her.
Her courters milled and tumbled in their urgent need to squeeze her.
For she knew well the subterfuge of makeup and of dressing
to keep all of her paramours both interested and guessing.

A masterpiece of camouflage, she dressed to win their favor—
the cynosure of attention who changed in age and flavor

from audience to audience—one day serene and regal,
the next day fluffy as whipped cream, appearing barely legal.
She kept admirers captive for so many years
that she outlived all her children and outlived all her peers.

But when at last she succumbed to inevitable fate,
making her grand entrance through that pearly gate,
all the hosts of heaven bowed down to all her glory
having no idea how wrinkled and how gory
she was beneath her raiment and the mask that met their eyes.
It was only the next morning that they saw through her disguise.

For alas, on trips to heaven, carry-ons are not allowed
and responsibility for checked bags disavowed.
So she arrived without her makeup, her wigs and all the stuff
she’d used throughout her lifetime to powder, paint and buff
herself to fine perfection. Without her wigs and clothes,
she had no other choice except to finally disclose

that she was just the girl next door—albeit so much older—
her visage creased and wrinkled, stooped over at the shoulder.
Her breasts were much deflated and her color merely sallow.
Without the false eyelashes, her eyes were strangely shallow.
And as she looked into the mirror, she finally faced the facts.
She could sink into her rocking chair and finally relax!

 

The prompt words today are fumble, magical, masterpiece and cynosure. Here are the links:
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/12/13/rdp-thursday-fumble/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/12/13/fowc-with-fandango-magical/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/12/13/masterpiece/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2018/12/13/your-daily-word-prompt-cynosure-December-13-2018/

Roadmap

Roadmap

I’m held captive by your wrinkles, dear, enraptured by your ripples.
I love your freckles and your moles and all of nature’s stipples.
They are sacred landmarks. When I find one that is new,
I must give thanks to nature for adding more of you.

Sometimes with the darkness around us rich and deep,
my mind goes on a walkabout as you lie asleep.
The roadmap of your body is the terrain that I pace—
the ravines and the gullies and your face’s fragile lace.

Some bemoan the changes that nature brings about,
and they bring a different beauty. It’s true, without a doubt.
But as I trace each special feature of your body and your face,
I’m reassured that nature’s carving instills a deeper grace.

 

The prompt words today are ripple, special, enrapture and sacred. Here are links:
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/12/10/rdp-monday-ripple/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/12/10/fowc-with-fandango-special/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/12/10/enrapture/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2018/12/10/your-daily-word-prompt-sacred-December-10-2018/

The Twins at Eighty

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Leonora

The lustre’s left my hair and skin. I’m simply bottom drawer.
My lovely high soprano voice has deepened to a roar.
My joints are gnarled and knotted. My back is bent a bit.
I’d prefer my stomach if I could see over it.
To say I am exasperated would be understating it,
but at least the truth cannot make the claim I’m skating it.
I blame it on the influence of age, chocolate and gin.
I’m simply not responsible for the shape I’m in!!!


Isadora

The gentlemen surround me in an unbroken cluster,
exclaiming over my smooth skin—its creaminess and lustre.
My drawers are full of love letters. Exasperated lovers
seek to win my girlish shape and woo it under covers.
They fall under the influence of my winning ways.
They do not guess my actual age when held rapt by my gaze.
I do pilates every day and all my life I’ve fasted.
Although I haven’t had much fun, at least my looks have lasted!

 

The prompts today are lustre, drawer, exasperated and influence. Here are the links:
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/10/22/rdp-monday-lustre/
FOWC with Fandango — Drawer
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/10/22/exasperated/
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/10/21/daily-addictions-2018-week-42/influence

The Old and Unrested

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The Old and Unrested

The old and unrested return to their beds,
propping their pillows under their heads.
Pulling their blankets up to their ears,
they let up on the gas and go into low gears.

Setting their brandies or porters or gins
on their bedside tables, they settle their chins
upon their chests and watch some TV
on laptops that sit where their boobs used to be.

Life is confusing when you are too near it,
especially ’cause it is so damn hard to hear it.
Then when you’re alone, it’s entirely too loud.
These neighborhood noises should not be allowed!

They turn up the volume to drown out the noise
of the car alarms, weed eaters and screaming boys.
They lie all morning, secure in their beds.
Life is much easier lived in their heads!

For Daily Inklings, Objects at Rest.

Fallen Memories

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The monsoon rains come like a blessing, relieving the hot humidity, building the lushness of the rice terraces. Green everywhere. Energetic monkeys in the sacred monkey forest grab my postcards from my hands, leave teethmarks that will delight your children more than anything  I might say in the postcards I send as recompense for the father I have taken off with me to another part of the world.

We grow into these long hot humid afternoons that are washed away for a mere hour or so by the seasonal rains. Shedding clothes like years, we live naked underneath sarongs wrapped tightly for security. You sit on the porch, your soon-to-be-old man’s furry pot belly proudly obscuring the tightly wound tuck of your sarong. Over twenty years later, it is that sarong made into a jalaba that I now wear almost daily,  hiding my soon-to-be-old lady’s pot as well. 

How I cope with growing old without you is to sift through these memories like playing cards or photos fallen from old albums that have lost their ability to secure. As gullible as upon our first meeting, I wipe away your inadequacies as I’m sure you would have forgotten mine if you had been the one left sorting the fallen memories in the bottom of the album box.

Monsoons, I have been told, blow both moist and dry, as we did over those fifteen years. But we endured and built each other, coping as all of those in marriages judged successful by their lasting power do. Today you are the photo fallen from the album to the floor.  Quickly, as you fell from my life, I tuck you back securely into your correct place, placing on top new albums with new memories built on the foundation of you and all those memories a life, in the end, is made of.  You slip into that middle place old loved ones eventually  are relegated to. Our way to cope. Our way to live life instead of merely remembering it. Because that is what life is. We keep trying. We keep on.

 

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The grab bag of prompts today were cope, monsoon, gullible and energetic. Here are the links in case you’d like to play along:

https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/06/06/welcome-to-daily-addictions/ (Cope)

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/08/01/rdp-62-monsoon/

https://fivedotoh.com/2018/08/01/fowc-with-fandango-gullible/

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/08/01/energetic/

Blown

 

Blown

It whistles a soft melody, this whisper of the wind.
Sings a mysterious lullaby, seemingly without end.
We do not know its language, but know it well by Braille.
It makes a tangle of our hair and swells our vessel’s sail.
It blows into a tempest that hurls us off our course.
Where it once took us willingly, it takes us now by force.
It is that infinite mystery whose answer is unknown
until someday, perhaps, when we arrive at where we’re blown.

The prompts for today are: unknown whisper infinite  lullaby
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/07/29/fowc-with-fandango-unknown/
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/07/29/rdp59-whisper/
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/07/29/daily-addictions-2018-week-30/(infinite)
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/07/29/lullaby/