I've often wondered why
life is measured by age
and wrinkles.
Kept track of
on mirrors and calenders,
reminding us of what's gone--
instead of what's left;
Graying hair swept--
under henna's and dyes,
hidden from curious eyes
that capture and label--
each human image,
to designate numbers;
Becoming that forty something,
that over the hill club member;
Many years old, instead of--
so many years young.
And nothing in those numbers,
gives any clue of a life lived;
Doesn't tell of happiness--
nor even sadness.
Ignores impact and direction,
as it simply wanders--
increasing in size;
Bloated under the weight--
of its own limitations.
By all our tedious calenders
we are born--
dying!
Where we should be--
arisen with each dawn,
unfolding as a rose, blossoming--
with every drop of experience;
Numbers should be left--
to grave yards and morticians,
to remind all of us--
that we are still vibrantly alive,
until all the sods are turned,
the multitude of crypts sealed
and there is no one left,
who is morbidly anal enough--
to count...
Author notes
Inspired by:
THINGS SHOULDN'T BE SO HARD by Kay Ryan
and my forty something birthday tomorrow lol
In a list
A contest entry
- Poetry Inspired... by Mallig.
3000 points, ended August 17, 2008, 7 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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This is lovely, and I can relate to it well. Powerful wisdom here: “By our tedious calenders we are born – dying!” and the number as a thing simply wandering, ignorant of its own meaning or the importance of the elapsed life it measures… Thank you for this wonderful entry!
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Delightful write! Very astute observations charmingly laid out for the reader to contemplate. Piercing "reminding us of what's gone/instead of what's left." So much easier to "capture and label...designate" a specimen than to consider its unique variations!
Truly, "nothing in those numbers gives any clue of a life lived." Numerals alone are rather sterile. Beautiful "Ignores impact and direction."
Outstanding "bloated under the weight of its own limitations."
Brilliant "By all our tedious calendars we are born--dying!" Lovely "we should be...blossoming with every drop of experience."
An entirely engaging concluding stanza. I liked the idea, "numbers should be left...to remind all of us that we are still vibrantly alive." Not a common current usage, but I think a superior one!
I thoroughly enjoyed this. Thank you for your entry.
P.S. Happy Birthday! 
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That last line was a killer. I agree with every word you've penned, and I love the language that you have used. We are a society of bean counters and tend to measure our expectations by the years. What does 40 or 50 or 60 mean when there are people whose pessimistic attitude ages them before their time and others who will view the world with childlike wonder well into their dotage? Thank you for reminding us of the joy of awakening each day to new possibilities. Good luck in this contest. Peace, Liz
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Well, gal, I am still counting... can't seem to get away from it. But your point is well made and well taken.
I like the straight style of this and the bit of humor at the end. This is a piece that well hit home with many readers, I think.
The whole last stanza is so imaginative and wonderful. Well done.
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I enjoyed this clever and thoughtful write. Every birthday is a celebration that you are still here! I know that sounds so corny, but I mean it.
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