John Anderson Poet Free verse

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Gnarled By Age Knurls the Grip

Babies and young saplings are silky smooth,
    adorned by curls and twirls, unfurled.
But age assails and weather beats brows
    to dry, and wrinkles the smooth with furrows and lines.
Twists and contortions compels, yields, and compliances
    reshapes the surface to bumpy, with knots and gnarls,
    knurling a rough grip, to deny the slip
    that smooth young skin and wills
    are prone to show when asked to follow a lead.
The rough and worn acrimony of old age,
    despite the crabby, cantankerous snarls,
    can be gripped and convinced to comply and yield.
It is the gnarls of age that knurls the grip.

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Daniel Turner June 14, 2017 at 4:14 PM I really liked this one, John. I wrote an early poem entitled "These Hands" A little different than yours. I love your descriptions. John Anderson June 14, 2017 at 5:04 PM Thanks for your kind words. Cheers and Best Wishes