POETIC BLOOMINGS

POETIC BLOOMINGS, a site established in May 2011 and which reunites Marie Elena Good and Walter J Wojtanik to help nurture and inspire the poetic spirit.

PROMPT #265 – YOUNG AT HEART

You’ve heard it said of someone, “They have an old soul, but are young at heart!” That’s something we all try to keep within us. So today, we will not act our age, no matter what that age might be. We’ve poured from the fountain of youth, keeping things fresh.

Fill one the blanks and use that as your title of the poem. Then as always, write that poem!

__________ YOUNG

or

YOUNG __________

You can write both if you feel the urge!

MARIE’S POEM:

Young Mom

Some days seem the longest long longer than a run-on sentence that fills her space with no breaks to grab a breath or bite or blink of rest and yes she’s blessed but stressed and pressed where tiny pupils move left to right left to right no end in sight no time to quench her appetite for slumber in what’s left of night just left to right left to right left to write what’s left to write …

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

(I do believe too many young moms in our midst feel just like this. 😦  )

 

WALT SHOWS HIS AGE:

OH, VERY YOUNG (FADED BLUE)

Your youth is fleeting;
in a rapid retreat
to the rear as years
pass. All class has evaded,
you live a jaded existence.
There is a resistance to do
anything to tip the apple cart;
the art to which you aspire
has lost its fire in your mind.
You find that your words are old,
having been written over time and again.
Your mood ages with your worn and tired muse,
you refuse to listen to reason,
your words have committed treason and
your heart is feeling rather empty and old.
You’re not really cold,
but your fingers are blue,
and so are you.

 

© Walter J Wojtanik – 2019

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28 thoughts on “PROMPT #265 – YOUNG AT HEART

  1. Good morning.
    .

    Simply Young

    There’s a rain barrel beside the tool shed. It’s
    full of young mosquitoes, next season’s crop
    of larvae swimming in
    their own stew.

    When I was young, I wedged my head
    between the slats of my crib. Mum said I had
    the brains of a mosquito.
    But I never tried to fly.

    That rain barrel fills with larvae every year.
    By June they’re swarming and buzzing, but
    the plants aren’t bothered.
    Water is water.

    When I was young, nothing seemed simple.
    I’m old now. I’m quite happy being simple.

  2. Pingback: 20 October 2019 – The Journal

  3. I feel I’m thirty
    Till I struggle from the floor
    Body says, times two

  4. William Preston on said:

    THE OLD MAN RECALLS BEING YOUNG

    When I was young and oldsters scolded
    and muttered to and fro,
    I thought them mere annoyances
    and wished that they would go.

    Eventually we had some kids,
    and when they all were small
    I often took them in my arms;
    their laughter was my all.

    They all grew and had families,
    and their children, as did mine,
    brought joy to me and I to them.
    All was good then; life was fine

    but grown grandkids now look aside
    when I approach, and so,
    I know I am annoying them.
    It’s time for me to go.

    • Earl Parsons on said:

      Great poem, however, in my case the last line would be “That’s just too bad, you know”. Grandchildren have a lot to learn from us old folks. And they can have a lot of fun with us once they understand that we’re not going anywhere until God moves His hand. At least that’s the way I feel. Besides, we help build their characters, and we all know this generation needs all the help it can get.

    • This contains a whole lot of sad in a lighthearted manner. Well done, Bill. (And, I can’t imagine you annoying anyone.)

    • Why go? Just come hang out with us. We understand you, Bill! Good poem!

  5. Wm Preston on said:

    Marie, I think your piece is mesmerizing and compelling; powerful in its quiet way.

  6. Wm Preston on said:

    Walt, your piece is sobering until, oddly enough, the part about blue fingers. For some reason, that made me feel better.

  7. Earl Parsons on said:

    I worked with youth and several churches and saw many of them go off into the world and fall flat on their faces because they ignored what they learned in church and went back to what they had learned at home or with their friends. And I had many young people under my purview while in the Air Force that wanted to hold on to the bad things that they learned in their youth. I took me a while to get my mind straight from the useless bunk that I had learned that just didn’t apply to life at all.

    Young and Dumb

    If I knew way back then
    Half of what I know now
    I would be a much better man
    But the youthful mind’s soft
    And it soaks up the bunk
    Like a sponge, it sops up what it can

    It sops up from the family
    It sops up from the friends
    If sops up what is heard on TV
    It sops up from the preachers
    And more from the teachers
    It sops up good and bad don’t you see

    In youth we’re meant to soak up life
    Learn right and wrong and survive the strife
    All that we learn needs to pass the test
    Of life after youth when we mix with the rest
    The spongy brains need the bad squeezed out
    Just keep the things that tell what life’s all about
    The youthful brains need a chance to mature
    But they won’t without kicking the bunk out the door
    So squeeze that brain sponge of all the waste
    Or you’ll end up living in that young and dumb place

  8. Passed Young

    I passed young on the road
    a while back, hitch-hiking,
    flowered with tie-dyed
    clothing, long, unruly
    hair, and a friendly
    smile. When I got home,
    I checked the mirror just
    to be sure. There appeared
    a face I nearly recognized.
    Then, I took off my glasses.
    The lines–horizontal and
    parenthetical–softly melted
    away, but the elasticity
    was no where to be found.
    I knew I was past young.

  9. William Preston on said:

    The title of this prompt reminds me of the song of the same title, but also reminds me of another song, Young and Foolish, by Albert Hague and Arnold B. Horwitt:

    https://songmeanings.com/songs/view/3530822107859046659/

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