when I was a young man
I was passionate for this new life of mine
zealous for liberty and proud of my clean name.
I cut a dashing figure and was admired
for the boldness in my step as I turned
for the lightning flashing in my clear eyes.
then the years fled from me
as they will every mortal man
and with them my fierce heart grew heavy
tired memory and gin took me back
to an invincible youth, incorruptible spirit.
to assuage my ire and compromised ideals
they offered me a jeweled crown
as it clasped my brow I felt the golden thorns
they'd concealed on the inside.
my soul had been sold cheap.
I was amazed by the young man who called on me
that winter afternoon, a mighty lion of a youth
stalking about my salon green eyes glowing
with no care the heavy cost of his insolence.
courageous to the brink of peril, he raised his voice
in response to my own outraged barrage.
he knew that some things were more vital
than a man's life, and stared at me in defiance,
inviting my assault, his honor invincible.
though he was armed with his audacity alone
this weapon was the most formidable to my lost soul.
he knew a passion for life,
zeal for liberty and pride in his mission.
he cut a dashing figure and I admired
the boldness in his step as he turned
the lightning flashing in his clear eyes.
I watched in a despair born of inevitability
as I raised my weapon and the clock ticked down
the moments left in his young life, the color drained from his face
but he stood unmoved, until the bullet struck him down.
he staggered into the cold street and died a martyr for the cause.
years later, I lay shivering on my bed of death, fingering my beads,
done in by dark nights of unspeakable remorse and the insidious poppy
I imagined in the midst of my descent
I could see him once again in my salon that winter afternoon.
he held up to my eyes a dark mirror
where I saw my own young eyes burning deep into my lost soul.
What did you think
Comments
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interesting journey within
sometimes there are moments in life we are not proud of...
but we learn and move forward
it made me sad at the end
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There is a kind of tragedy how the exuberance of youth becomes dulled with age, compromise leads to a selling-out of principles. I am wondering whether this poem was inspired by a real event, one you experienced or one you saw and placed yourself into the scene, or whether it is entirely fictitious. I like the mood of this piece, a little dark, but I am a little confused with the action. I think the confusion lies in the first references to 'When I was a young man...' and later 'I was amazed by the young man..' suggesting the same man view by himself and then another person OR two different man. I'd appreciate some clarity if you don't mind. Regards
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thanks, Andrew for your insightful and thoughtful impressions. it is inspired by a true event, an old man remembering his lost youth and ideals and the outrage that erupted between he and a young caller who embraced those old ideals of his, reminding him of how he had betrayed his own calling. If it doesn't scan clearly for you, a thoughtful reader, chances are it won't scan clearly for the majority. this is a good find and warrants some refinement to clarify this action. hope all is well with you. Haven't been writing near as often in the past few weeks, summer has been busy time. Hope all is well with you.
Peace
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Had a day when you needed to find yourself again, guess we all do this and wonder what our purpose is...fine penning
C
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