Poetry Forum

Futility comes with the grey
hairs—stiffens the joints at dawn
and weakens them before day’s end.

The traveler came to me
like always today—
he and his raven-haired
companion—yet again.

I eschewed them,
shooed them like two
insects seeking meals.

One, at least, would get me along,
but for the dawn.

So, I turned my back on them,
and I wept—
I couldn’t follow, not today.

Who knows, now, their visits
grow less and less and the urge
to follow wanes as the years
bend my spine and twist my spirit.

One day,
I suppose they’ll take heed
and leave me for a younger
master.
One who will challenge their
gifts, just as I had when threshholds
existed only for the crossing.

But today, I turn my back in them and cry.

bump

I thought I'd already left a comment, turns out I haven't, no big deal I guess...t'would be a pity to see this have to be bumped a second time by the author. It brought tears to my eyes. I picture a "has-been;" a teacher or something - most likely in a nursing home. The details aren't really important - the feeling is captrued, methinks.

I see nothing to nitpick that would accomplish anything, and therefore no reason to make this a very long-winded critique, but thanks for the read.

-Caleb

forgot to say thanks on this one.

there.

what is the whole "bump thing about"?

Its when you want a comment on a poem, and it hasn't got one, so you "bump" it to the top of the list. A shameless plug, but hey.

Cheers,

K.

i must try that sometimes, anyway good poem, preffered the other one though

--which other one?

-will

beats me.