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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Disasters, Delights and Other Detours - 21. Age and Unborn

I beg your indulgence for these. All errors are mine, of course.

Age

I'm weary of death, and he of me,
though soon in his arms I'm sure to be;
I'll shudder and shake in his cold, cold clutch
where it's winter eternally.

I've never been fond of skulls and such
and black fashion clothes don't thrill me much,
a rainbow of color I'd lief as take
when stillness my heart must touch.

Though sleep has its charms, I'll stay awake
recalling to mind that cheerful ache
I woke to each morning, content with joy,
for embraces I'd not forsake.

But now that I'm old, my body's coy;
the cells run amok, my bones annoy,
yet if I could utter just one last plea,
I would ask to lie with my boy.


Unborn

It lies upon the sheet so white,
in short, unformed, truncated plight;
it never kicked, it never stirred,
nor called with voice of pure delight.

It had beginning in the word,
intriguing, yet to all unheard,
conceived with unromantic haste,
as fleeting as a cloud or bird.

Our brightest vision once it graced,
but now it's soon to be erased,
for nothing more is there to say,
and further scrawling such a waste.

I chose an awkward path that day
when I took pad and pen to play,
and weighty verses tried to write,
yet all my stanzas stillborn lay.

Comments and critiques are welcome. I am grateful for your thoughts.
Copyright © 2017 Parker Owens; All Rights Reserved.
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Valkyrie
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I like the prosody and flow of these.  There's an inherent smoothness to the form that I find soothing, context notwithstanding.  I learned a new word--'lief'.  "Unborn" is quite clever, leading the mind one direction until the last stanza.  "Age" struck a chord with me, as it echoes some thoughts I've been having lately.  Nicely done, as usual.  :hug: 

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Parker Owens
10 hours ago, Headstall said:

I have to say Unborn was creeping me out until the ah ha moment. Brilliant sleight of hand/mind, Parker. I realize I too am surrounded by the unborn.

 

What can I say about Age, other than I felt it... in part because I feel it. :)  Great work as always, sir. Cheers... Gary....

 

I hesitated to post Unborn because I wondered if it would put some readers off before getting to that moment. I have so many scraps with the unborn in my notes and on my desk and dresser...

 

I am sure it is the late and long winter that makes me feel Age so much. We travel together down that road.  Thank you very much for reading these and for your comments.

 

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Parker Owens
9 hours ago, Valkyrie said:

I like the prosody and flow of these.  There's an inherent smoothness to the form that I find soothing, context notwithstanding.  I learned a new word--'lief'.  "Unborn" is quite clever, leading the mind one direction until the last stanza.  "Age" struck a chord with me, as it echoes some thoughts I've been having lately.  Nicely done, as usual.  :hug: 

"Lief" is such a handy word sometimes. I'm glad it is in your lexicon. The long, late-running winter surely played a part in bringing Age to paper. Too much snow at the wrong time of year will do that. I am glad Unborn worked out for you. Thank you for your kind words and comments.

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Parker Owens
1 hour ago, dughlas said:

Upon us all Age does creep. It's subtle caresses we feel. Alas the aches now felt are less welcome than those of the past

Unborn was a particularly grand twist to expectations.

Both are nicely done.

 You are very kind in your remarks. Your thoughts about Age are quite poetic in themselves. Thank you for the note about Unborn. I am happy the twist worked out.

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northie

Once I'd gathered what Unborn was about, it made me smile. Words which fail to gel into anything useful, never mind creative? I know them well. Gary's comment about being 'creeped out 'at the start is entirely apt.  ;)  Nobody who loves life will also love death. The Victorian black-ness that surrounds death and grief is finally fading away, I think. Not a moment too soon. 

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Parker Owens
14 hours ago, northie said:

Once I'd gathered what Unborn was about, it made me smile. Words which fail to gel into anything useful, never mind creative? I know them well. Gary's comment about being 'creeped out 'at the start is entirely apt.  ;)  Nobody who loves life will also love death. The Victorian black-ness that surrounds death and grief is finally fading away, I think. Not a moment too soon. 

 

Oh, the black-edged, crepe hanging era still lingers, if only in different ways. If you were misdirected by Unborn, then I can smile. I’m glad you saw through it to the end. Thank you for your reading and comment. 

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