Dare I Chart My Own Decline? Poem by David McLansky

Dare I Chart My Own Decline?

Rating: 5.0


Dare I chart my own decline?
I see a face not wholly mia
Eyes wide with fear and quaking terror.
I speak, i'm told I spoke in error
Oh twisted mouth of broken teeth,
Thin tight lips compressed with grief.

Where is the mocking face of joy,
The relaxed visage of the boy’
The learn’ed face of the man
Who studied life with such élan;
This haunted face, eyes wride with fear
Obs=ssed with fate: a skull will leer; .
The harried face, strained, life debased;
The body brings its own disgrace.

I stumble forward like a child
My humiliation masked by a foolish smile;
I stand desperate with the urge to pee.
No longer confident of my own self mastery.

My daily triumph is that I make it to the bowl,
That I do not live with the manners of a troll;
That I still urinate with accuracy and true aim;
For that puddle on the floor I'm not to blame;
There is a loss of dignity in old age
No shame is unfamiliar to the sage.
Is it my fate and ultimate triumph in the end,
That I sleep throughout the night without a Depend.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Elaine Sept 16 April 2015

Appraisal David, you are a most wondrous soul, Your mind is embedded with treasure. Compelling character in the whole, Imagination illuminating the night sky. Life is such a incredible gift, of grand and masterful design, Hard to comprehend the weight of its true value, When the vessel is cracked, and losing its shine. Until time grants us wisdom of reflections held in the mirror. Growing old, though a struggle, still can be a plus. What is discarded by some is cherished by another Sometimes the wrapping is to be undone... not by us, And the special parcel is left on an unsuspecting doorstep. Perhaps age is a magnifying glass, where we do some appraising That forces us to zoom in on a hidden price tag. True cost for a unique, one of a kind life that's amazing! A vehicle well used but valued so much more over time. Each day holds many riches within it's living bouquet, As well as that arduous road with potholes of great depths... Seize whatever wealth comes of the day, Understanding life's greatest gift is of yourself. Never stop dreaming, keep tweaking your mark. There could be something magical, just around the corner, That ignites that very dream, to make a spark*, And you never know just who is needing your light. xo

1 0 Reply
Patricia Grantham 03 April 2015

The mirror can only tell the truth. Your poem leaves one feeling dismayed and yet hopeful. Thanks for sharing.

0 0 Reply
Kelly Kurt 03 April 2015

David, I feel the confusion and horror of growing old before your own eyes. Thank you for sharing your poem. Peace.

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