No feel-good poetry to grace your eyes
Just cutting honest words aimed here to slice
Bloated egos and self-exalting platitudes
Vexations that expose a vicious attitude.
Perhaps the malady we trace to Andropause
Aging signs that irk and rave without a cause!
Resistance to the truth the finish lines draw near
Body's weak not agile, how fast the passing years!
Missed chances and the morass of regrets
Wrinkled lines that multiply each time the sun sets,
Ouch! The aches and pains that plague the burdened frame!
Arthritis comes, your phonebook's filled with doctors' names.
You're getting old and that's one sheer painful truth
No wonder the acerbic lines that sprout from bitter root,
Aging makes sour outlooks and revile the heart
It even acids poetry with the things that we impart.
All rights reserved ~~~Cynthia Buhain-Baello~~03.03.14
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem