I arose this morning, mindful to set back my clocks,
gazing out the window as I filled my coffee pot,
noticing that frost had left a sparkle on my lawn.
I riffle through my chest for a pair of warmer socks,
then sit here quietly counting the blessings I’ve still got,
on this chilly morning of a gray November dawn.
Health could be better ~ but I’ve learned to live with pain.
Sense of humor mostly gone ~ I still find reasons to smile.
My short term is damaged ~ except for golden oldie songs;
they dwell in dusty corners of my atrophied brain,
popping out at odd times from some obsolete file,
along with episodes of how some man done me wrong.
Here behind my door, opportunity seldom knocks,
and when it does, it often knocks me to my knees.
I need a knee replacement, throw a heart in there too.
My shining crowning glory now hangs in hoary locks,
and yet my time is spent doing whatever I please.
Time has taken the best of me, how is life treating you?
Turning back our clocks, does that really save our time?
Time seems more irrelevant, as seasons are spinning by,
we drag out our winter coats, then put them away again.
Time saved in our cookie jars is only nickels and dimes.
Too old and sick to hold a job, just waiting here to die,
hoping that the next phone call will be a long lost friend.
Well, my coffeepot is empty, the sun has melted the frost.
I must be more ambitious, go out and rake some leaves,
To kill a little time before my favorite soap comes on.
Tonight I will be aching, is it really worth the cost,
of stirring up old pains that my medicine relieves.
Before I can decide, the day has already gone.
Working for most of my life, punching time-clocks, enslaved.
These days I just spend my time ~ wasting all the time I saved.
A contest entry
- BWOW~~Make-up~~#23~~with aboomer, Starz of Heaven and islekine by islekine.
700 points, ended November 6, 18 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 15 of 15
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u have sooo much talent friend i really like this one. "killing time" when you say that in this piece i relate to it alot. great work and dont stop writeing you are a true artist. all the love in the worl
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Very telling tale for all us oldies. Leonard Cohen writes "I ache in the places I used to play."
Again good luck in the contest and happy trails.
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Reminds me of a quote by a famous poet, but now can't quite recall which one ~ "Time is meant to be spent, not saved". I live in the perpetual shadow of knowing there could never be time enough for all the projects, and all the things I want to achieve, and at times push myself. I too have progressive health conditions, which can hinder me at times, but the trick is in sensing when you can push yourself and when you have to rest, I think. The little details, such as the coffee pot, and the mention of your favourite soap gave this a cosier, personalised warmth, and a sense of homeliness, against the melancholy and the chill of the November dawn. In response to your line "Too old and sick to hold a job, just waiting here to die," I would say that in this apparent curse there is the hidden blessing ... of being able to work on your creativity, as your job; that it much what I do, where my writings are concerned, though I do the voluntary work for the local drama company too, to give me something sociable and to put on my career CV etc.
A good piece, Patricia
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you penned a beauty here, makes me think
I should bide my time with enjoyment
love and blessings
Rend
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Well, I can definitely relate to this! I much enjoyed this.
I agree - even with all the time we seem to kill as we get older, we do still seem to get some enjoyment out of life - I love listening to the 'oldie goldie' stations!...lol.....I just fix a cup of hot tea, smear on the Ben Gay - and turn up the volumn!
Most enjoyable
thank you for your entry
best wishes in the contest
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What a wonderful story!
Despite the pain...and suffering expressed, this has a very up beat feeling to me...and then the end clinches it! I had to smile...thanks so much for sharing your talent with us! Hope to see you again. Best wishes in the contest and always!
Write on and on...
and
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I love your use of the word riffle in the first stanza. I also adore the last line of the second stanza. O how it reminds me of myself! I can't stop laughing in recognition! As for the third stanza: when you find a place to buy a fresh new heart, not the kind in heart surgery, but the kind that mends an often broken one, please let me know? Cupid, don Cupid, that raucus heartless blind brat who gores all hearts sans mercy, flittering around here and there omnipotent, should soon be given strict community service, and taught to mend his ways. The first two lines, about opportunity, after the last lines of the last stanza really draw me up short: how true, how true. your shining glory's still beautiful: it's silver and white gold, bought with purple heart valor in the lists of life. All of us ladies should remember that. I hate how time races. I don't mind the continual pain as much as I mind how time flies out of my hands like dandelion fluff in a roiling autumn gust!
A very beautiful poem! Best of luck in the contest!
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Excellent flow to the rhyming verse in this profound and emotional piece.
You portray your deepest feelings very vividly--
Well Done & Best of luck in the contest!
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Hi there Bad Mother,
If only you knew...during the last couple of months, your wonderful stories have filled my imagination with vivid images of the Old West and the Deep South. You are a storyteller par excellence and I’m sure you still have some amazing tales to tell.
Perhaps, now would be a good time to follow the example of one of your fictional heroines. Out on the open prairie with the wagons on fire and no cover, the Indians are circling and shooting arrows
(They are pissed off with settlers invading their hunting grounds)... all hope is lost. So load your last few cartridges into your Winchester rifle, draw breath and make a glorious final stand.
Poets should not go quietly into that good night.
Give the leaves hell
Life is good
Love, Peter
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I must have just had a spell of seasonal depression to write this. You made me laugh, in your comment I found a new story, armed with my leaf blower, I will blast those leaves to glory.
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So Very Well Done
This posting requires no explanation. My only comment is that I am so very pleased to have you in my world and I look forward to hearing about and from you from time to time.
So Ms. Pat, keep that pair of warm socks, there will be plenty of times that they will remain your good friends!
bj
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You are a woman of grace and style, and no amount of pain will ever knock that out of you. We have our good days and our not so good days, but mine are better when I read you. Love, L
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This is captivating but I found it very sad. Besides living with pain I could feel loneliness in your poetic voice. This poem just made me want to hug you.
Love,
Amera♥
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Nicely done, all will be restored one day..
Good luck in the contest, this is sure a winner in my mind.
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