Gracelessly Growing Old

A poem from a muse I've yet to encounter again, and still don't know where it came from in the first place.

Time twitters away
An argent streak against a still
Moonless ink black night,
The candle burning at both ends
Lit by the match of my resistance.

The promise of morning
Becomes a promise of mourning,
The coming storm a call to arms
For time allows no rest to temper
Nightmares and premonitions.

My face is fading as the clock ticks
Dripping itself into deep sorrow
The lines of a life lived in vain
Puddled in the crack of the formica
For there is no time
To have my happy ending
No reason for me to march on.

I know nothing of anything else
And so I travel onward
Raging upstream in the
Sands of a broken hourglass
Thirsting for an end to come
So I can accept defeat.

Time, you have bought my ticket.
Kindly show me the way to the door.


 

Author's Note

Note: This is obviously NOT autobiographical. I just laid down in bed and it started pouring out so I typed it. I understand it in rereading, but I have no clue who it pertains to.

Reviews

[angelinmypocket]

I have a feeling that you'll never have to worry about growing old gracelessly. You have a mind like a sponge. You write with a knowledge that you are unaware of. It's a fact that many older people would rather die than to live the remaining years of their life in loneliness that comes about because they have outlived all their family and friends, and it seems nobody knows they exist. I admire you for your talent of working with a strange muse. Well written...and more truthful than you might ever believe.
Love/Liz/angelinmypocket

[Helena]

Don't you just love it when the thoughts pour out and its a complete
mystery from whence they came, known only to our "Muses"....little imps that they are! lol

Loved this, well done! Thank you again for submitting your lovely poems to my loneliness
contest!

~ Helena ~

[angelina neves]

beautiful!

[Rita]

'Time, you have bought my ticket.
Kindly show me the way to the door.'

I don't know why but I really like those two lines.

I can relate to the fact that sometimes I write things and I cannot explain them fully or my own intentions in them.

[Travis Lawrence]

Metaphoric language, imagery, clever diction and syntax, and consistent with the voice I've seen in your other poems. This may not be autobiographical, but you write it convincingly. Nice write.

[Kaela Craven]

"The promise of morning
Becomes a promise of mourning."

i loved that line!

I really like the mood and feeling in this poem. It's consistent too. Sometimes people have trouble with consistency in their poetry, so good job.