Who’re You Calling Old?

Word smithy, word smithy
Rend apart me a rhyme
That is, of course,
If you’ve got the time

To spin a tale;
Or tell the gospel.
Lord only knows
It’s been a spell,

Since the truth visited here
And then changed its mind.
When you had thought
She wasn’t that kind,

But she blunder-spilled
All your closest-kept.
How long ago
You might have wept,

But too many grays
Now dust your top,
And soon approaches
That day to stop

Trying to try
To find that heart of gold.
But it’s a tale in tatters
With whiffs of mold.

Pressing past fifty
Towards that spot of dying.
Living one’s Life
Is all in the trying.

So, punting this poesy:
Time for LSU versus Alabama;
Then, maybe go visit Joni:
Hey Lordy Mama!

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About Kitt

Sometimes a rhyme or couplet wanders across my consciousness. So, I share it. Other times I'm a hospice social worker; others, a Dad; others, southerner, New Orleanian, cajun enthusiast, voter, and on better days, a not-too-awful-poet/rhymster. Welcome to my page. Enjoy.

Posted on November 9, 2013, in Poem. Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. Well, old is my age plus ten years so, by that reasoning I will never be old.

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