WE WERE DIVINE

We arrived on outspread wings

and declared our godness

on the clean beach where

we were the ocean.

We flailed the air and rode

curled waves all the way in

on our long boards.

We ate sand, chased fish,

and sailed the sky.

Our arms moved the tide

as we swam long and deep

in the frolicking surf and

tangled our smooth thighs

in the brilliant sun,

our desire an inferno so hot

the hurricane came;

we left his tatters blowing

in our joy, our laughter a

sharp stick in his eye.                                                    

Reviews

[Lorry]

Ken's comment hit the nail on the head methinks, but isn't it a pity our golden days lead only to the realisation that as we creak and groan, that Ageing brings with it the realisation that we are indeed mortal... Except for those who found their own eternal youth in dying young.
So as I creak and groan, struggling out of bed like an upturned tortoise, while hoping I have enough time to make it to the bathroom, before the caffeine kicks in to reboot my system and start the eternal routine of emptying and filling my bladder,, only to pause and think "what have I got to moan about today?", no doubt a moment will come into view soon, as my mind relaxes briefly and let's me think "ahh, growing old ain't so bad!" 😊
But on the bright side, at least the weather here is so crummy I can have a good moan about those bloody weatherologists, who promised sunshine, and it took me all my strength to say promisedinstead of guessed.
So in summation, growing old ain't so bad, because I think it is compulsory to moan when you're old, and it's the one thing that keeps me at least feeling young! 😊

[Vol]

Lorry,
Lorry, it ain't the growng old that is so bad... it's how it ends. Like jumping off a cliff, the fall is easy, but that sudden stop!!
Vol

[Lorry]

True. I hope I'm flattened like a pancake by the fall. I don't want to be left impaling myself on something spiky and suffer a slow and lingering, scream filled kebabbing! 😊

[Ken Simm.]

The angels of the surf. Yes we were all young and we were immortal. But things change and this poem uses that metaphor so well to speak to a profound point.

[Vol]

Ken...
If we had only known how golden we were!

[John the Baptist]

A desire so hot it routed a hurricane. There are a lot of towns on the Atlantic and Gulf coasts who could really use your services.

[Vol]

I lived there many years... been through a lot of them...