THE POET

aging, unable to write

Threadbare hands

rough, profound crevices

dark blue veins protrude

across arms, elbow to finger

swollen skin hides gold wedding band

rigidity stifles writing

Years a poet

born to scribe

he rocks

in his worn cane chair

his mind travels

shrewd and clever

he uses his husky voice

to tell his tales

Silver-tongued words ramble

roadmap of life

alone, no one heeds

naps away bleary afternoons

hands crisscrossed

Reviews

[Richard🖌]

Ahhh, Betty Dear 🍂

The Olde Timeworn Bard, still composing vivid masterpieces in his imagination … a work of sheer wonderment captivates, as embracing imagery wraps its metaphorical ink around the deepest corners of our hearts, in sad recognition that one day he may well be we.

Whomever it was that said, "There's no beauty in sadness," never read this gorgeously rendered Free Verse tale that virtually steals and captivates the soul's breath, by virtue of its deeply tender poignancy.

No doubt, this is not your first poetic rodeo, Betty … brilliant line breaks, smooth as silk syntax, in a sharply-honed poetic voice, all assure us of that … love the jaunty staccato tempo of your lines, too.
Thank you, Dear Poetess, for sharing You … with warmest hugs! ⁓ Richard 🍃

[Betty Hermelee]

Thank you Alan, this is so inspiring to me, you have no idea! Sending tears of joy, Betty

[Lea Sheryn]

You have a wonder way of using your words to create a picture. Most enjoyable!

[wordman]

and a treasure to write from

[barleygirl]

I love how you depict the haunting falling-away of some basic life skill we take for granted, using intense imagery to show instead of tell. I find it interesting to ponder how you suggest that oral storytelling can take the place of the written word . . . and even tho I love this direction your poem takes . . . it also reminds me how few are willing to listen to the spoken word (me included) so maybe speaking one's poetry can be just another way to bump into all that we are losing as life wanes (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[alanwgraham]

I feel a bit like that already Betty. You have drawn a word portrait that is both sad and affectionate. The mind is willing but the flesh is weak. Your first verse is my favourite with all the well observed detail.
Well done for this.
Alan

[jacob erin-cilberto]

he is still writing poems in his head....even if the fingers are no longer working...
and somehow the mind won't let him transfer the writings to a page.
such a true piece of writing....a slice of a poet's life.
j.