Having recently written a blog on aging and creativity, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to how growing older influences my writing. It has gotten better, and certainly deeper. At this point in my life, I think about growing old, and dying, and the aging process—topics I didn’t think much bout when I was twenty, or even thirty. And, of course, the things I’m contemplating show up in what I write. How could they not? Sometimes what I have to say is serious, sometimes funny, and sometimes both. To be honest, I don’t like growing old, and I hate the fact that all the really cute guys are too young for me. However, despite the drawbacks to getting older, there are some gifts as well. Anyway, I’m not ready for the alternative—I’m having too much fun.
My poem, The Seeker Within, takes a somewhat humorous approach to the inevitable, but the underlying thoughts are anything but…
The seeker within
longs to soldier on
and see the face of God.
Reverse is not an option,
but if it were,
I might tarry a bit…
postpone my appointment
with the infinite
to deck myself in finery once again,
drink champagne from crystal flutes,
share slick and salty tastes
with handsome men who call me, “Sugar.”
I would reclaim taut skin, firm arms and thighs.
Truck drivers could leer and whistle.
This time I would simply laugh,
glad to be back again, young and juicy.
I would not sell my soul to make it so,
but I would think on it.
Reprinted from Redwood Writers 2016 Poetry Anthology, Stolen Light. All rights reserved.