I am ageing, with rapid pace
but you cannot tell; never
from this baby face
I wear,
youth I portrayBut truth be told
my heart be young
in innocence I walk
through life
thus showing my true age
plainly
I reveal more
than I would like
clearlyWishing the old adage was true
certain features only come with age
I still await the day
my looks reflect
my age
I feel a bit sad
for those growing up today
constantly glued to their tablets,
missing out of the amazingnessness
surrounding them,
In the back of their car
not seeing the mountains and lakes or
the relics of olden days,
farms, and ruins still standing
Never feeding their curiosity
thinking where does that road go
Can we make a detour
To find the hidden gems
I know I would be poorer
without those experiences I had
growing up to be
who I am
In the middle of my life
winter came…
It asked me to build a fire
with someone…
I did…with you
But I …
I still wander …
Lost in the blizzard …
Cold.
I was gifted with more than one
As if one would suffice – I ask
How long could one last
the ticks of time grows longer
the creaks in the floorboards
only matched by your
rattling joints
One was cold – distant
Another warm – touching
One spoke of gift as good
Another saw poison – a marriage
One stood out
Another cared not
When all the pieces are in place
The picture nailed to the catafalque
You can say
I knew him – and all his ways
She turned my head
for a while made me forget
myself
with my smile seemingly
lasting
the cork popping and
bubbles overflowing
the moment of
recollection
a hard truth
re-revelation
I don’t do people very
well
the size of your tits, love
matters little in the grander
scheme of things
they will sag, eventually
no matter how long you
wear that bra
I don’t care really, what would I do
with something I cannot fit
into my hands to hold, anyway
the size of you heart, love
matters more to me
although I cannot measure it
the heart do matter more
what you say,
from heart must come or else
there be no trust; just void
the glance, your eyes must be
reflecting the beat of
the heart; inside
the balance; the rhythm
yours must match mine
though cosine and sinusoid
rarely meet; it would be a
grand feat to end up
as one
me:so I had this idea …
to write a story
but hide it inside
poetry!
not me: huh?
me: OK, sounds a bit daft but it goes something like this
Inside my poetry I will #HIDE parts of the story
and! to find out the really good bits of the story you would have to endure my shitty poetry!
not me: sounds like torture!
me: Well it is not for faint-hearted but I think I will give it a go!
not me: So how would I know which part is poetry (bad normally) and which belong to the story (hopefully better)?
me: I will plant some _clues_ throughout the poems that will lead you on the right path, there might even be links to additional content where you can find further clues. Sounds plausible?
not me: not convinced, let’s see how it pans out
