Skip to main content

A woman of a certain age (a poem)

It's probably true
That quite unlike you
There are things I cannot do.

It's probably right
That if it feels tight
I gotto put up a fight.

It's probably best
If I just confessed
I'm no girl, 'nuff said.

I can't have it all
And still stay small.
So, no more gentle strolls
To target those rolls.
I got to really stride
And yes, move that hide

Gotto run, break a sweat
Or believe you me, I fret
That weight loss goals
Won't be met.

Can't eat my cake
Without a bellyache.
Chocolates? It's like this you see
I love 'em, but I also get acne.
Yes, even at my age.
Life really is strange.

Hot pants? Er, not for me,
With lycra, maybe. 
But a celeb I'm not
For pants that short
Fitted jeans more my thing
To add that infinitesimal zing.

If you must know
I'm a girl no more.
I'm all woman now
Come into my own, and how!

My age? You want to gauge
A woman of a certain age?
Oh, please don't compel
You see, a lady would never tell.

*************************

Comments

walk don't run said…
Totally loved this :)
I'm a girl no more...
I'm all woman now, come into my own and how :)
walk don't run said…
Totally loved this...
I'm a girl no more
I'm all woman now,
come into my own, and how!
Thank you Priyamvada, poetry is such a lovely way of describing stuff. And for me, a poem doesn't have to be a serious, staid, exercise. Poems are fun!

Popular posts from this blog

Morning scenes

The wind blustery Skies grey blue A light so muted Birds are quiet too We walkers go Sidestepping Couple-dancing No touching Looking or meeting Glances…Oh no!   Masks dangling From chins Below noses Hanging from one ear Or sometimes Fitting so properly Covering everything So no one can see Or know What we’re really like.   Runners running Soundlessly Iron determination Seeping through So much so   That dogs being walked Know they cannot Wag tails Or even Bark a greeting.   Two men Creating content One breaking into Hair flipping, body popping Dance Faithful friend filming In fits and starts As a security guard Sips his chai Utterly bemused.

Why?

Two times now, I've seen it happen. Twice, I've seen men, ordinary-looking chaps, verbally and physically abuse the women with them. While people around them did nothing. One man was young, he had an identity tag. He wore formal pants, nice stout shoes. I saw him kick the young woman with him, straight in the gut, with those shoes. His companion was in burkha but she seemed young.  The other man was older. He harangued the woman with him loudly and crudely. He spat at her, followed her when she tried to walk away. Shook her by the shoulders, repeatedly. Both men did this at a public park, in full view of dozens of people milling around. Walkers walked, joggers jogged, various men lounged about, sat around. The onlookers watched the two men do these terrible things. And they did nothing. I am not a brave person. In my heart I was terribly afraid--that if I confront them, they could hurt me, find out where I live, hurt my family. But I was ashamed to stand by and watch. S...

Cockroach eggs and innocence

Baby ate a cockroach egg last night. At least, he tried to. C noticed and got it out. But the lil' one must have gotten a taste. Yuck, ewww! Really and truly. But then, I got thinking. He ate it because he didn't know he wasn't supposed to. He doesn't know what bad is. Or evil. Or lies. Or hate. He doesn't know, what it is, you see, to be all grown-up and knowing what is right and wrong. And who is good and bad. That's why, when he sees a white-haired gentleman, he says "Ajja". How can I tell him then, that I'm afraid not all "Ajjas" are safe to be around. That in our adultness, we've lost the capacity to trust infinitely and innocently. That we can't really, because we've corrupted ourselves too much. That's why, even if I whack him and shout at him in my pettiness, he'll screw up his face and bawl his heart out. And then hold his arms out to me. And that's when I feel miserably small and just like tha...