When she was a little pink-cheeked thing
Her mother told her 'If you believe you can, you will'.
Her legs grew long and her eyes smudged
With enthusiastic mascara.
Her friends said 'You're weird; try to be more like us'.
But her mothers’ words had exiled her
So she wore what her friends didn't, wouldn't, couldn't,
And leaving them unready to believe, she went away
To touch mountains and sing new songs.
To grow her hair too long,
To love unsuitable suitors, and marry none.
And left shaking heads and tutting tongues far behind her.
When her legs refused to run as fast...
With pearl-backed brush, she sat alone, brushing at her cobwebby head.
A hundred, a hundred and one, a hundred and two.
Gazing into the worn, speckled mirror.
The soothing strokes stilled her for a moment.
And her memory escaped and slipped out of her eyes,
Drip-dripping onto her now-still hands.
She took out her keepsakes, and named the places and faces
And emptied mouse-droppings from the shoe-box.
And her chest thudded with the echo of the Kodak-moment-days.
She smiled and whispered - 'I believe there's more to life than this'.
Her mother told her 'If you believe you can, you will'.
Her legs grew long and her eyes smudged
With enthusiastic mascara.
Her friends said 'You're weird; try to be more like us'.
But her mothers’ words had exiled her
So she wore what her friends didn't, wouldn't, couldn't,
And leaving them unready to believe, she went away
To touch mountains and sing new songs.
To grow her hair too long,
To love unsuitable suitors, and marry none.
And left shaking heads and tutting tongues far behind her.
When her legs refused to run as fast...
With pearl-backed brush, she sat alone, brushing at her cobwebby head.
A hundred, a hundred and one, a hundred and two.
Gazing into the worn, speckled mirror.
The soothing strokes stilled her for a moment.
And her memory escaped and slipped out of her eyes,
Drip-dripping onto her now-still hands.
She took out her keepsakes, and named the places and faces
And emptied mouse-droppings from the shoe-box.
And her chest thudded with the echo of the Kodak-moment-days.
She smiled and whispered - 'I believe there's more to life than this'.
Author notes
I'd been feeling down about how I'd not achieved by age 50 what I'd like to have done. And the thought came to me that even when my race here is done - there's more to come.
Did I get the rhythym right? Quick-quick for the young girl, placid and slow for the old woman?
Comments
1 - 10 of 10
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yes to your question... the rhythm is perfectly done
Even though this may seem ridiculous - I understand how you feel.
Now I know that you're thinking at 23 I have no right to feel this way, but I do - all the time. I feel as though more than half of my life is behind me and I still have not accomplished what I am meant to - time is ticking away (I fear I will never see 50).
I love this poem. I love the images, the metaphors, and the tempo change. A very well-thought and intricate piece.

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fantastic... shew... you make coming back on here after about two years really worthwile...well done


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You got everything right, yes, you so rocked it...my we have a poet on board the boat, hahahaa write on and right on


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You have such a charismatic way with words, I feel as if I am beside you as you speak these words and yes, there is more. Perhaps in a different mode to what we expect but definately more
Bravo, most enjoyable


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mistaken reply 2?
Hello CP...
I THINK I may have sent Yvette C a reply I'd intended for you - ooooh - this webpage management is clearly not my forte!!! Sorry for any confusions! All my oops! -
on Beyond belief by robinsonkin, on October 12
Hi CP!
I SO hope there will be more - but got to say, Monday mornings, I'm quite happy to just put the load down and walk away! But thank you so for the bouquet - I don't know how to do these cyber-fanglations, so please excuse my seemingly dull responses. I've SO enjoyed the few days I've been with the site - feels sort of like I've come home! Yeah, I know - get a life!!
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Love this,the descriptions,the emotion,the imagery,all of it.The only thing could tentatively suggest may possibly be that perhaps "and left again" could be superfluous.Especially liked "her eyes smudged with enthustiastic mascara" made me smile.Yes,the pace felt right for both the raciness of the girl and the more thoughtful disposition of the woman.Neat.


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on Beyond belief by robinsonkin, on October 12
Hi Yvette
Thanks so much for that - I really wondered about it. Doesn't it make it a bit too open-ended - or is that a good thing? -
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Indeed I like open-endedness,it affords the reader the continuation of imagination as opposed to a firm conclusion,ahhh,I challenge myself by thinking way,way too deeply and please always remember my ramblings are just a sharing of perspective and only that,never criticism
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a mistaken reply??
Yvette, did I just send a message to you instead of to CutiePie!!? Erps! Sorry if I did and sorry if I didn't and am now getting knicker-knotted as I try figure out this (EASY!!!!???) webpage system!
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