Sunday, 28 December 2008

Born to die!

Yes, I know, from the moment we are born we are getting older. When you are 25 it doesn't mean much; when you get to 45 it begins to grate; when you get to 60 then you really begin to think seriously about it. "They" are now saying that 70 is the new "middle age", and when you look at Helen Mirren in her bikini in her sixties, Judi Dench, still incredibly sexy at 74 and Sheila Hancock, still whizzing off round the globe at 76 (have just read her "Just Me" bought for Christmas and a really inspiring read) you get the feeling "They" may be right. Nevertheless, getting older does begin to take on real meaning, hence the following poem:-

Now that I am getting older
I would like to Spring-clean my brain;
take out the old dusty books
of Latin verbs,
replace them with
memories I've forgotten;
clean the shelves
and re-arrange
in Alphabetical order.

Now that I am getting older
I would like to take down
the Post-It notes
in my head
that have lain unread
gone brown
and brittle;
wipe where they have been
and leave everything
clean and sparkling.

Now that I am getting older
I would like to edit the memories;
take them out,
examine them,
erase the painful,
enhance the good;
returning them for
easy reference
in Alphabetical order.

Now that I am getting older
I would like for Christmas
a mental photograph album.
It would be annotated
and underlined,
sitting on a clean shelf,
ready to be taken down.
It would be
clearly laid out
and easily referenced
in Alphabetical order.

But now I begin to fear
Alphabetical order.
Will I remember if
G comes before M
and where R lies?
I may need a new set of
Post- it Notes
to remember
Alphabetical order.

27 comments:

Rachel Fox said...

A head full of post-it notes...quite a frightening image in some ways. Very rustly!
x

Debra (a/k/a Doris, Mimi) said...

It's as if you read my mind, Weaver. The topic of aging has been on my mind frequently over the past few months. I often reflect on past memories and those I am creating in the present. I try hard to make a wonderful impression on our granchildren so that long after we are gone, they will remember us fondly and with love. It is a morbid subject, but one we all face sooner or later. The poem is lovely, Weaver.

Teresa said...

Thought-provoking poem. I completely agree - the older I get, the more I realize my time is limited and I had better spend it wisely and not put off what I really want/need to do. Thanks for the reminder.... wouldn't mind doing some editing myself!

Gramma Ann said...

Hi Weaver,

I enjoyed that poem. I no longer use post-it-notes. I keep a notebook by my chair and jot down little reminders. Also the blogs help keep track of some of the things going on in my life. So far I have been able to remember from one day to the next! ;))

Have a nice week-end.

Country Girl said...

I love this poem. You are a wonderful weaver of words and you put your finger on exactly how I feel sometimes.
Peace.

Chere said...

Weaver this is my first visit to your site and boy did you think my same thoughts. My BIL pass away two days before Christmas. We attended his memorial service on Friday. As I sat and listen to his son and friends talk about his life this thought hit me, "I'm I living my life the way I want people to remember me?" When you ponder this questions it really makes you think. I do look forward visiting your site and making a new blog friend in 2009. Happy New Year

Leenie said...

Spent two months cleaning out my departed parents house. Do your family a favor and toss the greeting cards before they fill two chest of drawers. I am going through my attic and my brain with my descendants in mind....before I forget. Fine poem.

Mad Bush Farm Crew said...

Weaver that poem is great. I've often thought about aging but instead I've decided to live one day at a time. I started a journal that I can give to my girls. My mum has been watching her friends passing away as she almost did earlier this year from peritonitis. I hate losing someone. When I nearly lost my daughter to suicide at just 17 it has made me learn to take just one day at a time. I'm older and wiser for the experiences I have gone through.

Thanks for sharing
Liz

The Weaver of Grass said...

actually Rachel - come to think of it my head often feels rustly!

The Weaver of Grass said...

Thanks for the comments Debra.

The Weaver of Grass said...

It is a pity Teresa that we can't edit as we go along.

The Weaver of Grass said...

I love notebooks Gramma ann but I tend to mislay them!

The Weaver of Grass said...

Peace to you too Country Girl and best wishes for health in 2009

The Weaver of Grass said...

Welcome to my blog, Chere - come again!

The Weaver of Grass said...

Yes Leenie - I had similar experiences and feel u nder obligation to keep possessions to a minimum and to throw out old cards etc. Good advice.

The Weaver of Grass said...

Mad bush - it is sad but true that it takes a horrific experience to make us realise what is important. Very best wishes for 2009 to all on the farm.

The Solitary Walker said...

I once stood so close to Helen Mirren I could see the little hairs on the back of her neck (in an airport queue in Palma, Majorca). Her American film director husbnad was definitely NOT pleased we'd recognised her!

Here's to more lovely poems and blogging in 2009! My life may be changing drastically in a few weeks - so watch this space...

Annie Wicking said...

Wonderful, Weaver!

Just to let you know your comments are coming through loud and clear at my end.

Have a wonderful New Year, my dear friend.

Annie

Raph G. Neckmann said...

What a beautiful and thought-provoking poem Weaver!

I find it is easier as one gets older to go through the memories and erase the painful and enhance the good.

(All my life I've got the letters of the albaphet muddled -especially when I'm in creative mode!)

Looking forward to more of your poetry in 2009.

elizabethm said...

Lovely poem. I echo the sense that what is old retreats as you approach it too. I am fifty four. I remember so clearly the arrogant sense I had at sixteen that thirty was impossibly old.
Fifty four is good , by the way.

Pamela Terry and Edward said...

It astonishes me sometimes to think of all the nonsense that is stored up there in my brain!! So much trivia!

I for one, intend to keep the Helen Mirren image as my goal!!

Woman in a Window said...

I was just drawing up my comment in my mind as I neared the end of your poem, I was marvelling at your need for sense of order and then WHAM! Hit with humor and maybe even injustice at the one day losing the capacity to hold it in order. Or maybe that just means that order is not, afterall, so necessary.

S.L. Corsua said...

I admire the turn at the last stanza, how it ties in the previous sentiments, relating them to a perceived consequence of old age: the escalation of forgetting. A sobering thought; the poem has depth. ;) Thank you for sharing this. Wishing you much blessings this coming new year. Cheers.

Janice Thomson said...

Yes I liked the depth to this one too - and the touch of added humour.
Thought-provoking and well done Weaver.

Jo said...

Loved this poem. Yes time is so limited over a certain age, something I will keep reminding myself when I make all those ambitious New Year resolutions.

Mistlethrush said...

Loved the poem. Can empathise with it completely. If I ever lost my diary I'd lose the whole of my year - cos I can't recall what I've done and what I've yet to do!

McGuire said...

Lovely poem.

I just turned 26 over a month ago and I feel the pinch of old age. That may seem ridiculous but even now I start to think about gorwing old, youth being in the past. Of course, I have some time yet, but the thought sits in my head, like my grandfather sitting like a stone in the middle of the room. I will find out.