A BEAR OR A GUY
FEEL SAFER WITH WHICH AND WHY
CORNELL WOMEN CRY
My functional parents loved us and each other.
I had all the perks of a stay at home mother.
At the age of five there were just two things to dread ~
the cowboy and gator that lived under my bed.
Army brat blues, poetry, song, freedom, love, dance,
guys and wearing denim in every circumstance
were the essence of me at fifteen on display.
Dad paid me ten dollars to wear a dress one day.
At thirty, I longed for down time with no stress tone.
I felt my life was a ‘get it done’ pressure zone.
Mom, executive assistant, homeowner, wife …
Day drowning grew my wishes to end the clock's strife.
Watch what you wish for is advice I did not take.
At fifty I lost the clock with a gained head break
that led to many trials for loved ones and me.
Bonded by faith, we learned all we could do and be.
My age will no longer be of concern to me
when I open the door and in walks seventy.
If I give it attention it might diminish
all that I believe I can both start and finish.
On Sunday I was five years old
And my heart is full of sorrow.
I’m scared to death if truth be told.
I’m starting school tomorrow.
Now I’m fifteen years of age,
My head is in a whirl.
At last I’ve turned another page.
Last night I kissed a girl.
So now I’ve reached the big three-0,
A small milestone in life.
And the girl I kissed fifteen years ago
Has just become my wife.
Fifty and a man of means.
But it’s not all good of course.
That girl I kissed back in my teens
Has just filed for divorce.
There’s a pile of cards on the doormat.
I’ve reached seventy today.
The bathroom scales say I’m getting fat
And what hair’s left is grey.
At five, whole world a wondrous gleam,
A bottomless, bright, benign dream,
Each step a secret, shine so bright,
Moments like fleeting sunbeams’ light.
Fifteen years, a smooth shifting tide,
Where fervent feelings faintly hide,
A quest for self, a whispered plea
Of who I am eternally.
Thirty now, the path quite defined,
With purpose clear and heart entwined,
A steady stride, a settled grace,
Carving own dreams in time and space.
At fifty, wisdom starts to bloom,
Dispelling shadows, chasing gloom,
Reflecting past sweet or sour years,
In the span of time, without fears.
At seventy, some desired rest,
Where peace and quietness are blessed,
A life well lived, a journey's end
On loved ones, memories, depend.
All ways
are returning
back to the comfy chair
with a coffee, cat and a book
to read
To read
of roads ahead—
following that one star
a glamour hiding frozen wastes
—return!
Return
to opposite—
the pendulum swings down
here is another hell waiting
—return!
Return
Hollywood shines—
the hills hide the horrors
Barbie demons with plastic smiles
—return!
Go then
towards morning
letting the sunshine in
I will remain at this compass
always.
stirring
inside a rhombus,
springtime.
inside a triangle,
a blind
dog.
the rhombus and the triangle
keep
bumping
into each other
inside my twelve
by fifteen
rectangle.
there, on the clothesline,
sitting side by side,
chatting away,
are my wife's
sleeveless blouse,
my Bermuda shorts,
and my daughter's
ripped jeans.
by noon,
the triangle
slips inside
the blouse.
the rhombus
into the pocket
of my Bermudas.
and through the
rips and tears
of the jeans,
spring descends
into my twelve
by fifteen.
my wife's blouse,
my Bermuda shorts,
stare on it
astonished.
five sparrows
are playing
on the open terrace
of the morning.
At Five,the world around seems confusing
The moves are mesmerizing, so amusing.
One knows no lies and smiles
Plays and explores,counting upto miles.
At Fifteen,one is full of energy and zest
One is impulsive,there's no desire for rest.
One dwells in dreams and fantasies
One enjoys the company of friends, like a swarm of bees.
At Thirty,one feels to have a permanent bond
With a person one wants to be and is fond...
One develops a true sense of responsibility
One strives to achieve and gain stability.
At Fifty,one loses all charm and desire
The level of spirituality, goes higher and higher.
One enjoys the company of members in family
Wants to spend the rest of his life,happily...
At Seventy,one likes the company of peers
With them,he shares the memories,smiles with eyes,full of tears...
One often feels connected with the Lord
Feels,the ultimate path,leads to the Almighty...God.
Sweet September morn Fall's freshness Natural normalcy was all around us
Soon something shifted, shalt not
Killing came - Monumental Madness
Hate hit our twin towers.
Pierced Pentagon caused fiery flames
"Let's Roll" rested in farmer's field
By our village home perched on a green plateau low
a sparkling brook meandered like a garland to flow.
On its waters paper boats I at five sailed with glee
to distant dreamland configured in my infant fantasy.
At fifteen and in teens to study seriously I was told,
for that shaped what the future for me would hold.
Between study and play I carefully divided time spell.
My strategy worked for in the exams I did fairly well.
At thirty to curve the tough career course I was busy,
in the competitive world that for me was not easy.
The onus of raising the family I also needed to face.
I felt happy that this I could do well by God’s grace.
At fifty when I was scaling career’s challenging height
the coming retirement days loomed large in my sight.
With the children settled and gone on their own ways
I planned well for me and my wife to meet those days.
At seventy I felt I was walking on the last mile track,
but with the life spent I was contended looking back.
I thanked God for gifting me new days’ sunrise to see,
pondered when the fated end would come to take me.
Suddenly, the crashing sounds of broken glass
as all the doors closed with nowhere to pass
Time stood still as so many innocent souls breath their last
the tragedy which happened unexpectedly so fast
with blood and fire mixing together on the ground
the city transformed into a great battleground
the hand of terror forced its way with a heavy sound
to hit a target for which it was mount to bound
So many left with unfinished dreams after the blow
to leave the world in darkness moving away the glow
no one had a clue even to use a whistle for anyone to know
that within a few seconds the towers will come below
Perhaps this would never had happened should one foresight
while everyone was so busy about their duty under the light
to commit themselves with intelligence to do everything right
unknowingly they got caught by evil in life to lose the fight
The memory of that one day no one can erase from the mind
which continue to stain the hearts of those who escape death behind
The statue of liberty will forever mourn those patriots who are gone
as well as the earth with open arms sit and wait for hose unborn
A pocket full of smooth, round
stones,
A beetle crawling in the grass,
The tallest tree that I can climb,
And watching fluffy clouds
pass.
A secret kept by my best friend,
The perfect song to clear my
head,
A locked diary beneath the
floor,
And all the words left unsaid.
A quiet house before the dawn,
The monthly rent paid right on
time,
A steady hand to hold my own,
And mountains I still hope to
climb.
The health of those I love the
most,
A peaceful night of restful
sleep,
The quiet joy of letting go,
And memories I get to keep.
The warmth of sun upon my
face,
A rocking chair, a cup of tea,
A long and winding story told,
And knowing they'll remember
me.
Can you believe I finally made it this far?
Wanna hear my five-year-old birthday dream?
I want a grenade, a pop gun, an exploding cigar,
milk duds and a cone of chocolate ice cream.
To get to fifteen took me forever.
Now, I fall in love five times a day at a glance.
I need a birthday miracle that’s clever -
a way to get in Janet’s pants.
With work and kids, I’m up to my ears.
How did I get into trouble so deep?
All I want, as I turn thirty years,
is one night of continuous sleep.
At fifty, it has been such a long road,
and I’ve now lost a bit of my fire.
My ambitions have been somewhat slowed.
But for college tuition, I’d wish to retire.
Seventy? How the heck did it come so fast?
The things that I hope for as the sun wanes,
is that this year will not be my last,
and a moment without aches and pains.
Five Perspectives: ages 5, 15, 30, 50, 70
Born in the Bronx in thirty-nine,
I went to school when I was five;
did arts and crafts, which was just fine.
Loved pretending my doll's alive.
Fast forward then to age fifteen;
my group of friends was number one.
High school and writing were so keen,
and weekend dances brought such fun.
At thirty years, my life was grand-
with husband plus two girls, one boy.
No preschool then, but hand in hand,
a full-time mom became my joy.
Age fifty led to busy days,
working, and yet pursuing art.
With many shows, this painting phase,
and writing poems filled my heart.
Age seventy arrived carefree.
We sold our business, then retired.
Blessed in late eighties now we see
five Great-Grandkids our Grandkids sired.
From the womb it seems I birthed into a cocoon
Cant say I had known for sometime I was alive
Much learnt whilst unaware for almost four years
My memories say I'm one calendar says I'm five
Things that seemed important over sixty years ago
The latest shaped shoes or a top ten hit parade song
At fifteen peer pressure shaped how I would behave
Learning to discover where I would eventually belong
No manuals to assist a father raise three young children
Imparting to dependants the way I had been mentored
Dealing with an aggressive workplace, finances and self
At thirty overwhelmed, swearing in this poem is censored
A new century arrived grandfathering is such a blessing
Responsibilities of existence have largely been lightened
Now turned fifty still feeling some traces of distant youth
A positive outlook on life has recently become heightened
Having reached the age of seventy over eight years ago
As an alternative thinker there is a chance I am outcast
I am far removed from alignment with majority opinion
Rejecting thoughts postulating how much time I might last
When I was only five.
My dolls were the big thing,
we would sit and sing.
Then my tricycle I learned to drive.
At fifteen I was dating.
Boys were sure fickle,
some of their words were like a pickle.
We loved to go roller skating.
Now thirty is life half over?
Today is a new day,
no more hair of gray.
Maybe I need a new makeover.
At fifty should I retire?
Many days are way too long,
is life a game of ping-pong?
Some days I feel like I want to expire.
I never thought I would reach seventy.
Here I am,
drinking hot tea and eating strawberry jam.
Seventy is fun and not my enemy.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.