Muppet
You’ve grown old,
as living things
have a habit of doing.
It takes another,
to point out the grey
creeping in.
You don’t show age
in many other places,
such as movement
or attention.
Still the garden gate sphinx,
wheat field bounder,
fresh shirt muddier.
I forget you weren’t always there
and you won’t always remain.
NaPoWriMo has rolled around again along with the first prompt of the month. I’m not sure I even like this piece, but I didn’t really like the prompt and since there was nothing else in my head ideas wise I just ploughed on through.
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Published by Carol J Forrester
Carol J Forrester is a writer and a history geek. Her debut collection 'It's All In The Blood' came out November 2019.
She has a 2:1 BA degree in history from Bath Spa University, enjoys judo at least twice a week, and tries to attend poetry events around the Midlands when she can.
Her flash fiction story ‘Glorious Silence’ was named as River Ram Press’ short story of the month for August 2014 and her short story ‘A Visit From The Fortune Teller’ has been showcased on the literary site Ink Pantry. Her poems ‘Sunsets’ and ‘Clear Out‘ were featured on Eyes Plus Words, and two of her poems were included in the DVerse Poets Pub Publication ‘Chiaroscuro’ which is available for purchase on amazon.Her poem ‘Until The Light Gets In‘ was accepted and published at The Drabble and her poem ‘Newborn’ was published by Ink Sweat & Tears.
She has been lucky enough to write guest posts for sites such as Inky Tavern and Song of The Forlorn and has hosted a number of guest bloggers on her site Writing and Works.
View all posts by Carol J Forrester
It sounds like you’re talking about the cycle of life, which was pretty interesting to me. Do you mind me asking what prompt you used?
“You could stoke their fur forever
and nothing would change”
Birth Bell – Louis Mathias
I read the poem in full today, the quote really doesn’t do it justice.
BIRTH BELL
The beginning of war was also a blossom. Here’s
where you started to finger
your terrible pearls. Undoing the want
takes a long, long time.
Days spent
circumventing bougainvillea.
Flash forward
to those Indiana fields, those stray dogs,
the idling truck.
You could stroke their fur forever
and nothing would change.
— Louise Mathias