Old – perhaps forgotten

On By Richmond Road

You may be familiar with Cyranny’s Vintage Notes, but I wonder if I am the only one to whom the word word ‘vintage’ immediately inspires thoughts of nostalgic personal introspection.

On this occasion she was hinting at her own getting of wisdom, even though she has been around for barely the blink of an eye, relatively speaking. The only wisdom that I can offer, from a bit further down the track, is that one comes to realise not only how stupid one was as a youth, but how stupid one remains and is destined to remain always. The big difference is that stupidity was so much more fun in youth.

So I sent Cyranny a little poem in response and repeat it here, just to indicate that I still draw breath and occasionally attempt to feign optimism, albeit not very well.

Neither of the people in the picture is me, by the way. The one with clothes on is Henry Miller, my first great literary hero, and the other person is somebody else – probably a very respectable old lady now, in a retirement villiage. I remember seeing the picture originally in one of Miller’s books somewhere with the caption, ‘no matter how attractive my opposition, I never lose focus’. If only I could claim the same.

*

Old

But not forgotten

On the nose

But not quite rotten

I’ve done the yards

And done them hard

Slightly bruised

And badly scarred

And badly kept

I’ve sadly wept

On nights alone

I’ve barely slept

And yet a heart

Still beats within

With thoughts of

Every mortal sin

Still pumping blood

Through every vein

To taste your lips

Your fine champagne

Still living, breathing, don’t forget

There’s life within the old dog yet.

9 thoughts on “Old – perhaps forgotten”

  2. judyt54c869a044ad's avatar Judy Thompson

    As I approach
    without reproach
    the deepest end
    the sharpest bend
    my admiration
    for such poetic inspiration
    grows and grows

    (and anyone who can look that good with only a ping pong paddle for coverage will never maunder, fester, or dwindle…)

    Liked by 3 people

    Reply

    1. Thank you Judy
      Food for thought
      A game of skill
      Whilst wearing nought
      A certain skill
      That can’t be taught
      A confidence
      That can’t be bought
      Whilst as we contemplate the end
      And into darkness both descend
      Our dignity we’ll not defend
      Nor the fate we can’t transcend
      A message to the world we’ll send
      That there may be a dividend
      As long as one can still pretend

      Liked by 2 people

      Reply

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