Hi, Walt here. I begin with this poem:
THE LITTLE BOY AND THE OLD MAN
By Shel Silverstein
Said the little boy, sometimes I drop my spoon.
Said the little old man, I do that too.
The little boy whispered, I wet my pants.
I do too, laughed the old man.
Said the little boy, I often cry.
The old man nodded. So do I.
But worst of all, said the boy,
it seems grown-ups don’t pay attention to me.
And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.
I know what you mean, said the little old man.
This week we breech a subject with which more of us here deal than not. Aging. As we get a little older, we become more and more a shell of our former selves. Our highlighted poem by Shel Silverstein (a personal favorite poet of both Marie’s and mine) approaches the subject tenderly and lovingly as the similarity between the little boy and the aged gentleman is compared.
In spite of the prompts I post and the Reading Room features offered on occasion, I am again faced with my mortality and the prospects of aging. Health issues have prevented me from being more of a presence than I’d like of late. But, my saving grace is my wonderful granddaughter, Brooklyn Ariel. She pulls me from the brink of that precipice time and time again.
And so, we come to this week’s prompt. Re-read the Silverstein poem to refresh the concept. Then, you are charged with writing a poem that reflects your process as told to a young person. You are the Old (Woman/Man) talking to a little one, be they a grandchild, a young family member, a wide-eyed neighbor child… someone who can benefit from your packet of wisdom surrendered in your poem. You’re writing a poem in language a child would understand. It’s a bit of a challenge if you are not used to writing a children’s poem, but I have faith in your collective poetic abilities to be able to pull it off. As always, I appreciate each and every one of you as poets and friends.
Nonna Ree's Priorities
The older I get, the older I feel
It’s hard to run. It’s hard to kneel.
Can’t cartwheel as in childhood.
(But, truth-be-told, I never could. 😉 )
Consistently can’t find my words -
Can access just perhaps two thirds.
Can’t run too fast. Can’t hear when asked.
My skates and skis were long-since trashed.
But I’ll still race you on my bike,
and take a walk or even hike
and talk and laugh and draw (kind of 😉 )
and listen well
and deeply love.
© Marie Elena Good, 2021
WALT’S WORDED WISDOM:
POPPI, OPEN THE EYES!
You sit with me upon my knee
as we watch your program on TV.
You’re light as a feather and I’m not
sure, whether you know how loved you truly are.
I begin to doze and I sense you know
and you wrap your fingers around my nose.
You give a shake, to my surprise and you say,
“Poppi, open the eyes!”
I startle awake at your gentle shake
and you laugh at the funny face that I make.
To sleep through our time is a big mistake
so, I wake up, for heaven’s sake.
I give a hug to you my love bug
and you respond with your simple shrug
as you huddle closer, nice and snug and say,
“Wake up Poppi, open the eyes.”
My sleep eludes me and you exude such joy,
like you do when we sit and play with a toy.
I marvel at the smarts you possess
and the pride I feel inside my chest
tells me you just might change the world,
girl with the straight blonde hair (with no curl).
You search me out and you smile oh, so wide,
you grasp my hand and you hold it so tight.
And I’m happy you came along when you did,
and I laugh when you claim “I’m a big kid!”
And you certainly are, I believe you’ll go far,
and I wish I’ll be here to bask in your star.
But, there will soon come a day when
our time at play will come to an end,
and I will miss you, my lovely young friend
who worked so hard to keep me so young.
On that one day, my eyes will stay closed
and no bit of shaking upon my cold nose
will stir me from my timeless sleep.
And my non-response might make you weep.
But, don’t be sad for your old granddad,
just remember all the fun that we had.
Over time you’ll feel glad to recall it all.
Before it's all gone, it would be wise
for your Poppi to open up his eyes!
© Walter J Wojtanik - 2021