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Posts Tagged ‘Remembering our Youth.’

 

Courtesy of the special collection of the University of Washington

 
 
It had been many years since he felt that way.
It was a rerun in his memory of the past.
There was fifty years between them.
She was outright flirting with him.
 
He was uncomfortable with it.
He was sitting right there with his Bride.
She acted like his bride was not even in the room.
 
Maybe it was how she got right into his face.
She looked at him like he was something really special.
She touched his knee under the table
as she kneeled before them on the side of the table
to take their dinner order.
 
Just when he accepted that his youth was long gone
she had to come along and remind him
what it felt like to be desired.
She was unfair in doing what she did.
 
Leaving behind the passions of youth
is not an easy thing for a man to do.
The move from passion to wisdom
is painful for any man.  
 
Perhaps ladies there is a lesson here.
Men of Passion never die in their hearts.
The burning heat of creation is part of their DNA.
Never treat your man like he is no longer alive.
 
Within every silver-headed man
still lies the young boy
remembering
wanting
desiring.
 
Laugh not at Passion.
It is as old as the centuries.
Forever faithful.
Forever remembering.
What it was like
to have been loved. 
 
Commentary on Poem:  Shortly after I posted this poem and shared it with one of my friends, their comment was, “John, some folks would just about do anything for a big tip, especially a twenty year old.”  His comment was filled with great laughter.  Frankly I joined the laughter with many big “Ha-Ha’s” on my part.  There is much truth in the saying,  “There is no fool, like an old fool.” Lol 
 

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Courtesy of angelinasfall.blogspot.com

What is this thing that cries out within me?
Is it a spirit that hungers for freedom?
“Freedom from what?” my mind asks in cold hard terms.
 
My life seems about things.
Things stack
things store away
a room full of things.
A bank acoount with growing numbers
but it seems
it is all about the balances.
 
I look into the mirror because they say
“Mirrors never lie”
What I see
is not
what I am.
 
I am like unto the spirit of youth
locked in a dark gray cell
listening to the sound of time on the clock
growing more loudly each day.
 
I find myself dancing alone at times.
I love what the sound of music does to my body.
I go back to that mirror
with sweat dripping down my face.
 
I am still puzzled by the face
that stares back at me.
There is a pleading look in my eyes.
They cry out,
“See me, see me
I am not dead!” 
 
A ghost I have become from growing older with time.
I move through my life
seemingly untouched by the sounds of laughter from my past.
 
The smells of loving sweat
the memory of gentle lips touching
the back of my neck.
I feel like my body
no longer remembers the joys of passion.
 
Yesterday I sat in a room noticing many things.
They were little things
but important things
that let the gift of beauty
be shared by one
such as me
hungry for their taste. 
 
The gentle curve to a neck
that seemed to never end.
The movement of material on a full soft breast
as the breath of the beholder
played with the movements.
 
Eyes with a color of the lightest blue
with mystery whirling within their depths
of thoughts yet unspoken or shared with anyone.
 
I heard that voice within me cry out
“See me, see me, I am not death, but alive!
Hear my cry
feel my need
I am alive!”
 
I left the room without a word.
There was a slight smile on my face toward you
as there was a similar smile on yours.
Silent thoughts unshared
upon our departure.
 
Two ships passing on a huge ocean
with a wave of the hand
toward each other
across desolate waves.
When will this voyage end?
What distant shores await each of us?

 

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