I agree. I’m not a fan of the title, myself. It doesn’t do the piece justice.
Poetry / old old old!
mother is slow
and her mother
slow as hell
and me
inexaustible
and alive
all appetite
and nothing
sagging
but free
of the wisdom
of the ancients
and never starved
and rarely beaten
but so alive
I can’t stand
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Bravo maestro. Bene, bene. This is a wonderful blend of both angst and whimsy. It speaks plainly and doesn’t pull it’s punches, this poem was written by a person who accepts themselves and things for what they are. It’s sparness is it’s beauty and I think it was written by someone who is too attached to who they really are to ever get stuck in an “ism”. I really dig this piece.
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I like everything about this poem. Very simple but lucid. Well done. One thought, I don’t like the title. Seek revision on that one.
I likee A LOT!
First, typo: inexaustible should be inexhaustible
This is incredibly sweet and wry and TRUE all at the same time. Although there are tired out oldsters, many (the ones who have survived life’s traumas) are quite amazing in their tenacity and stamina; often those much younger with kids and three jobs and pipe dreams of 36 hours days are the ones splayed on the couch snoring at 6:30 PM (or AM depending when their shift is over).
Pace yourself, that’s what I learn from this; the turtles may indeed have it right. Let the hares have a coronary, and just keep on truckin’.
I hope you’ve got more suchlike in your trove.
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