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Play it Again, Sam
Contributed by
softerware
on
Wednesday, 8th October 2014 @ 10:41:21 PM in AEST
Topic:
happypoetry
|
Youth is truth in fingerpaint;
Age the sage of quiet restraint!
Opposites in every way!
Until you catch a germ one day;
I succumbed in ‘94
Walking through a bedroom door!
What happened was a mystery;
But it did quite trip on me!
It made me skilled at alibis!
My heart expanded one full size!
I lost all my dignity!
Conspired against my progeny!
Knew a friend who caught it too;
Watched this "grown up" come unglued!
(Took up saving photographs;
Of ankles, toes, and dimpled calfs!)
You may find this somewhat funny—
But I’ll bet you even money;
You could catch it; and in fact;
You won’t care how dumb you act!
The side effects are comical!
(The cost is astronomical!)
Your friends will hide! You’ll live on gruel!
Perhaps like me, you’ll coo and drool!
But no one wants to find a way;
To make the symptoms go away!
The germ’s a gift; a trust; you see--
And here's the way it conquered me:
I'd aged into a knarley weed;
Set eyes upon a tiny seed;
Felt in mine a little hand;
(Nicknamed her my "baby grand")!
And there, within that nursery room;
A grandparent burst into bloom!
My inner child revived and sent;
To love another innocent.
Copyright ©
softerware
... [
2014-10-08 22:41:21]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: Play it Again, Sam
(User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on
Thursday, 9th October 2014 @ 07:10:36 PM AEST
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A guardian angel?
The ending made me recall a dream I had in the mid 90's. Funny that you "succumbed in ‘94".
I was then going out with my future second former wife. I dreamed of a little boy, maybe he was six to seven years old. It was a very realistic dream. Even scared me some...well a lot right before I woke up. He had saved me from an angry mob. Weird dream I'd say as I could fly but barely fly high enough to stay above the angry mob's hands reaching out for me.
This blond hair boy came along and lifted me way up into the sky and in to some kind of thing. I can't explain what it was...only that there were many people in it and talking among themselves. Murmuring and talking. I remember thinking, "I wonder if my dad is here". My dad passed away when I was eight years old, back in 1962. The boy remarked, "You can talk to dead people here." That frightened me and I awoke immediately!
Over the years I assumed that this would be the son my future former wife and myself would someday have. A few years after that, I was with her at her brother's house and we were looking at old photographs and came upon a photo of her dad when he was a youngster and he looked like the boy in the dream.
I was then convinced that we would have a boy that looked like the boy in the dream. Nope, I was wrong. Fate changed? I dunno.
Anywho, the poem provoked those thoughts in me and that, to me, is poetry in action...SUCCESS!!!
Thank you.
Tim |
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Re: Play it Again, Sam
(User Rating: 1 )
by hauntedscorp on
Monday, 17th November 2014 @ 07:04:21 PM AEST
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Awww, this is so sweet!! I can't wait ;) What a beautifully written and fun poem. Did you share this with them? I'm sure they would love it, no matter the age.
Thanks for the smile! I'm reading it again.
~Scorp |
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