Monthly Archives: September 2011

Old Age – Modified Third Draft

This is just a quick reordering of the third draft with the last two stanzas swapped.  I think I’ll do a more thorough rewrite to try some different phrasing and work that back into this picking out the best parts.  I’ll also need to refocus the poem.

Grouped around him,
an homage to his perceived widsom,
they prattle on
about the interveining
days,
weeks,
years.

He listens as though hearing fails,
The tellings filtered through a gauze
time wrapped about his mind.

It’s been long
since they were afforded
opportunity, such as this,
to sit and regale each other,
fervently summarize
ever important lives;
judge their successes
and failures
against a familiar tapestry.

Thoughts interject…
thoughts of what was
and could have been;
About her;
smiling up at him,
cradled newborn suckling,
sleepily radiating wonder
and love.

They drone on,
occasionally breaking his reverie
with sharply annunciated questions;
Near Screams.
Pats on the leg
ensure his attention
on the moment,
not the past.

Winks and knowing looks
pass back and forth,
an acknowledgement of wit
and delicacy, and tact so necessary
for dealing with the aged and enfeebled
An affront to a strong mind
in a worn shell.

How long?
Who could remember,
heartache spans time
so effortlessly

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Old Age – Third Draft

Worked on formatting and some modifications to enhance the section about remembering a lost love.  I’m just taking it a little farther this direction.  I’ll probably cut most of that out as it’s running afield of my original intent.  I just want to see how it reads with these mods though–just in case.

Grouped around him,
an homage to his perceived widsom,
they prattle on
about the interveining
days,
weeks,
years.

He listens as though hearing fails,
The tellings filtered through a gauze
time wrapped about his mind.

It’s been long
since they were afforded
opportunity, such as this,
to sit and regale each other,
fervently summarize
ever important lives;
judge their successes
and failures
against a familiar tapestry.

Thoughts interject…
thoughts of what was
and could have been;
About her;
smiling up at him,
cradled newborn suckling,
sleepily radiating wonder
and love.

They drone on,
occasionally breaking his reverie
with sharply annunciated questions;
Near Screams.
Pats on the leg
ensure his attention
on the moment,
not the past.

How long?
Who could remember?
heartache spans time
so effortlessly.

Winks and knowing looks
pass back and forth,
an acknowledgement of wit
and delicacy, and tact so necessary
for dealing with the aged and enfeebled
An affront to a strong mind
in a worn shell.

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Old Age – Second Draft

This revision was an attempt to get more specific information into the poem. It will be pared down if it doesn’t work. I’m guessing it will.

Grouped around him,
an homage to his perceived widsom,
they prattle on
about the interveining
days
weeks
years
It’s been long
since they were afforded
opportunity, such as this,
to sit and regale each other,
Fervently summarize
ever important lives,
judge their successes
and failures
against a familiar tapestry.

He listens as though hearing fails,
The tellings filtered through a gauze
time wrapped about his mind
interjecting
Thoughts about what was
and could have been;
About her.
How long?
Who could remember,
heartache spans time
so effortlessly

They drone on
occasionally breaking his reverie
with sharply annunciated questions
Near Screams
Pats on the leg
ensure his attention
On the moment
Not the past.
Winks and knowing looks
pass back and forth,
an acknowledgement of wit
and delicacy, and tact so necessary
for dealing with the aged and enfeebled
An affront to a strong mind
in a worn shell.

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Old Age – First Draft

This first draft was the product of an observation.  I noticed that people who talk to an older person often assume they are hard of hearing and/or a little slow on the uptake.  It offended me, so I tried to think about how I might feel about that as I progress in age.

Grouped around him,
an homage to his perceived widsom,
they prattle on
about the interveining
days
weeks
years
It’s been long since
They were afforded
opportunity, such as this,
to sit and regale each other,
Fervently summarize
ever important lives.

He listens as though hearing fails,
The tellings filtered through a gauze
time wrapped about his mind
interjecting
Thoughts about what was and is
and could have been.
They drone on
occasionally breaking his reverie
with sharply annunciated questions
Near Screams
Pats on the leg
ensure his attention
On the moment
Not the past.
Winks and knowing looks
pass back and forth,
an acknowledgement of wit
and delicacy, and tact so necessary
for dealing with the aged and enfeebled
An affront to a strong mind
in that enfeebled shell.

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First post and Welcome!

This is my first post on this new blog.  I hope to use this blog as a stimulus for my creative writing.  I’m going to try to be faithful to this new pursuit, and I hope it works for me.

I’d love to have feedback from anyone who stumbles upon this and has a minute.

Thanks

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