Age and a footballer
A lot I hold against Age:
It can the cheapest goals wedge,
The fortyish striker make a tired leg;
Final whistle of a match quick to beg,
The referee not afraid to bluff
For a first half long in rounding off!
A great deal I have against Age:
Many a thirtyish dribbler by the ball dribbled
And later when interviewed simply quibbled…
Big names you wouldn’t believe could lousily fall;
The signal to players to hang an advancing boot
Even as either pair still fits either foot.
A zillion things I know about Age:
How very similar it is to Restraining Cage
And some sort of brother to the slowest plague;
The while footballers are still in the race
Merely basking in God’s grace…
The many times one is featured in a tournament
Age patiently withholding its embarrassment
She thought by marrying an older man
She would forever look young in his eyes
He led the way, ‘twas a child that held his hand
Until he met with an early demise
Older now, she finds herself attracted
To young men more likely to outlive her
But my, oh my, how her peers reacted
With choices she made, they could not concur
Fiftyish gal with a thirtyish mate
He showers her with such great affection
And he doesn’t mind she can’t procreate
But from old friends she's scorned by rejection
These friends have husbands who are cheating now
For men have desires to feel young as well
Their marriages hang from a fragile bough
As these men fire blanks at much younger belles
*Entry for Dr. Ram’s “Cougar Effect” contest
By Carolyn Devonshire
Inner self renowned free; owned only by me in the thicket of the woods which is ticket to the
goods. Lovely dew drop, tear drop worries obliterated by the sun. Rings true that I don't
know what I've won but myself-- tiny, big, larger than life- Not! Famous to none; infamous to
one-- maybe! That old tree that never moves but to stalemate then check. Mark it off-- I'm
done! Approval, Approval, Approval! Stamp me authentically me. Nature calls no one as we
call it often. Rings true, I believe. Natural self looks like Apollo and Daphne in the minds eye
of keen perception. Distorted fragments of soapstone in my artist's mind recalls and carves
and older self. Rewind now, back to babyhood; not yet out of the woods of my sheltered life.
Sheltered life, comfortable; Sheltered strife, uncomfortable; Shelters galore, displaced
woman. Never to become morbidly serious about reality-- I'm an Aspen now in a darkened
mood detached adhered to my silverish, thirtyish leaves, leaving one silver-gray split hair on
the memory of the past which is still not true to self-- now in present life is hopeful and not
reproachful!
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