I have reached the end of my teenaged poetry and some later works that I wanted to share; from the surviving pages located and the document that I had transcribed the lost pages some years ago.
I will be taking a break from this blog, while I decide whether to end it as it, or re-image or upgrade it….
in the meantime, enjoy one of the last poems I wrote in the previous decade. Wow what a trip it is to think of your life in terms of decades and not years or months……..
Please enjoy, one of my favorite of all poems, of the ones that I wrote. Just to be clear.
Thank you very much
(Find Tin Soldier On A Shelf Poem)
Once shiny and new & sharper than wit
At the back to the shelf, the razor does sit
Tarnished and dull with a rust spot or two
Alone and abandoned with nothing to do
A tender young maiden once eager to please
Shaved both armpits and her legs to the knees
Now Older and Wiser and not so willing to behave
A politicized activist certainly can’t shave
And, wondering what it had done to offend,
The lonely razor planned to amend
Its forgotten state, and return to the fore
Of Sally’s toilette, or at least be used more
Waiting and watching for it’s chance to gleam
And needing some help from the shower steam
The razor strained and stretched til it slid
Off the shelf, down the tile, to the toilet seat lid
Sally poked her head out after the noise
Her date glancing at the razor, Sally lost poise.
“You shave?” the date asked, incredulous
“No!” stammered Sally, still trying to sous
How the razor landed in such a visible place
And her face grew redder as egg formed on her face
“I thought I’d tossed it,” Sally swore, dripping wet,
“I stopping shaving when I stopped being het!”
Her date laughed, and dropped the razor in the trash,
Then slipped into the shower, not wanting to hash
Sally’s little transgression when there was love to make,
Teasing was for later, and hot coals to rake.