Poems 2

Three poems composed off the cuff. Hope you like them. Sorry if they don’t make you smile. They reflect change and dissatisfaction but not a state of inertia. They are self portraits, lumps and all!

Clinging

Days spent in an empty dream
The passing moments wasted in hope
Of longing and belonging
to a life now gone
that has passed into midnight.
Reaching out in vain constantly
trying to pretend that all is still the same
white knuckle precipice dangling 
to an idea that is longer there
the departed ship to distant lands
Sitting on the ledge, gazing out
across the wide horizons
of what is left to live
and live is the word, not cling 
to that long departed truth
Back in the Day

I had a style not much, its true
I knew my mind and others too
the certainty of youth matched
 with a confidence lost
I belonged and was happy in my place
Music, films and books were there
to define the persona so
others knew what they were 
Coming up against
but doubt and fallibility crept in
Those markers to the real me
dropped like matches from a broken box
to scrabble on the stony ground 
for what defines the next real me
but scrabble still I do
Be sure of what you care about
and when to care about it
the markers that define your youth
do not map the future that remains 
so tread carefully along the way
Thoughts on a middle
The vast expanse of middle me
is a worry,
The lumps where bumps shouldn’t be
are my shame
The trousers groaning from the tension
are a restriction to
The smaller inner me

I care that there is more
of me
I hang my heavy head in shame
its true
avoid the mirror or the scales
because
They show the real me

Will I be happy when
I’m thinner
Restricting the excess for
me dinner
And will it turn me into
a winner
In the never ending war on
the middle-er


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