Written for: Poets United Midweek Motif~Ode to Age
You may write about youth, old age or even about a distinct period of history or literature.
“Why so scrawny, cat?
Starving for fat fish or mice….
Or backyard love?” — Basho
Mom said long hair in old age is unsuitable
Tired of shorter hair, I’m growing mine, irrefutable.
I do give in to some conventions,
to my legs, I pay more attention
by not wearing patterned black stockings,
’cause blue veins serve well as flocking.
Clothes are aging hippie mixed here and there
with leggings and sweaters, winter wear.
Age comes in like a spider creeping
no point in sadness or weeping.
Your mouth will turn down without pouting,
lines will appear–check with mirror if doubting.
Aches, pains, and illnesses may assault you,
so indulge yourself the way you ought to.
I couldn’t agree more. It is as though we have been given a second childhood but this time we won’t be told off!
That is a right of old age.
Totally indulging, with some of the same gestures–mid-length instead of short hair on my head, for one. Nicely done with fine rhymes.
I am all for comfy warm hippie clothes. And i so admire older women who keep their hair very long and natural. Mine is too thin and limp, so i wear it to my shoulders. But i envy the rich grey locks of some of the locals….both men and women, lol. A lot of refugees from the 60’s live here. Smiles.
I am thinking about EmmyLou Harris, and how many years I have seen her in concert from long brown hair to beautiful silver now.
Ha, good tips 🙂 Acceptance makes a contented life.
Thanks, Sumana. Acceptance should make you life flow a little more smoothly.
Indulge yourself the way you ought to… so true.. wise words Sara.
Yup. Heres to managing this phase with patience and love
This is TC, or too cute…in a good way….
I’m taking the opportunity to wear what I want now that I’m too old for anyone to dictate to me! I love leggings, think stockings,, long hippy skirts, black sweaters and cardigans – and I’m growing out my bob! Your poem reminds me of a wonderful poem by the late Jenny Jose[h:
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people’s gardens
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practise a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
Thanks so much, Kim! I actually have that book!
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Yes indulge yourself…grow your hair long.