Treasure Island

Smoky Hoss

(01 may 1962 / U.S.A.)

Stature of Senility

Sitting on all his years
like a hard wooden chair,
looking, motionless into the dense
woods of forgotten memories,
staring with abandonment
feeling them draw near and
rise up,
through the crooked legs, into
tired arms and bent fingers, past
the chest with it's slowly beating
heart, up the neck, through
the nose with ancient unknown smells,
into the eyes,
seeing something way out there
move, not recognizing the shape,
no further.
The brain lays in wait, terrified
it will never

Submitted: Monday, May 05, 2014
Edited: Saturday, May 24, 2014

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Topic(s): life

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  • Patti Masterman (5/24/2014 9:45:00 AM)

    My problem is that I remember too much and it tries to own me..would that some memories
    would fade, in time.. great descriptions, you are a master craftsman with your words..measure
    twice, cut once in letters ;) (Report) Reply

  • Lyn Paul (5/11/2014 2:41:00 AM)

    Beautifully written Smoky, covering a sad illness that no medicine has a cure for. Thank You (Report) Reply

  • Dee Corpolongo (5/5/2014 7:26:00 PM)

    Wow....this is an amazing poem that says it like it is....Aging has it's downs, yet
    so many memories are made to look back upon, if we are lucky enough to remember them.
    Excellent poem, Smoky, but this one is not funny.....only reality's bite. Thanks. (Report) Reply

  • Dave Walker (5/5/2014 4:05:00 PM)

    A fantastic poem about something that never really seems to be talked about, yet it is something that
    can happen to any one of us. (Report) Reply

  • Susan Lacovara (5/5/2014 10:18:00 AM)

    Memories stolen by the thief of senility...what a cursed hand. A lifetime lost to the fading of familiarity. Heart breaking, beautiful in the most melancholy of measure. You have done your duty well to point out the stillness in the statue' s surrender....albeit not by his choice. I will save this to my favorites...and hope this shall never be my fate. PEACE (Report) Reply

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