Remember that day in ’86?
Yeah, yeah…that one…
damn I tried not to…you know
pass it on to you.
But ….. hey… it was kinda fun
in an adolescently asinine way.
Anyway, if you got this letter
you have outlived our agreed upon
expiration date.
That being the case
let me apologize for the messes
I left for you to clean up.
How are we doing anyway???
Still wearing flannel and blue jeans
or did the fashionistas finally
gain the upper hand?
About the grandkids…
sorry I taught them to spit
and swear…but remember
you had a hand in it too.
OK, what I really want to know
“DID WE I EVER GROW UP?”
I mean become – like –
“A responsible adult???
As of this writing
we haven’t made too much progress
but the grandkids think I am
“the silliest Papa”.
Hope they still remember that
as I remember them.
Actually, I hope the future
hasn’t changed them….or you.
Hope to see you soon
(but not too soon)
Your Self
9/19/2021
Letter to your future self Poetry Contest
Categories:
adolescently, age, growing up, humor,
Form: Free verse
Art is subjective.
Critics are selective.
I want to be that person.
But not one whose poems are cliches rehearsing.
The one whose poems are more than just rhymes
The one whose poems are more than just lines.
The one who writes about the rays of a sunset
The one who writes of how much they have regret.
But I find myself constantly needing to rhyme.
And my poems not taking much time.
To write I mean of course.
And i just can't figure out the source.
My poems just flow out of me so adolescently.
It makes me fear that that is all people will see.
Adolescence and cliche filled lines.
Maybe these are the signs.
To give up on a little dream.
To no longer let these poems be more than they seem.
Categories:
adolescently, art, poetry,
Form: Free verse