Gershon Wolf Poet Free verse

Get a Grip

is that a tremor
  calm down, take it easy
sure it is, distinct this time
  fingers trembling slightly

get a grip now
  no, I can't
I can't grip my pen
  my fingers are shaking now

O, the vagaries of age
  one goes from light to dark
in the tensing of the neck
  and the knot of the stomach

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L Milton Hankins May 13, 2021 at 2:15 PM This is so reflective of how I feel sometimes, Gershon. I write things and then say to myself, "Get a Grip!" Life these days is so confusing to this ol' dude.

Daniel Turner May 13, 2021 at 7:24 AM Getting old is an adventure into the realm of cracking bones and forgetfulness. Not to mention incontinence:) Good morning Gershon.

Evelyn Judy Buehler May 12, 2021 at 8:35 PM Old age creeps up upon one with stealth and determination. Your fine poem says it so well, Gershon. Blessings, Evelyn Gershon Wolf May 12, 2021 at 8:43 PM Old age is certainly a persistent bugaboo, isn't it? Thanks for your kind words, Evelyn. Light and Hope, Gershon