#OctPoWriMo – Wasted Momentum


Lined face

A roadmap written by sins

Destruction willfully pursued

With a feeble dance

Sunrise

Darkened by cataracts

Wasted momentum

None remember

Copyright © 2018 Penny Wilson

This is part of a 31 day challenge.  October is Poetry Writing Month.  I’m gonna try for the 31 poems in 31 days.  We will see.  This is the first.  You can find out all about the challenge HERE.  Have fun! 🙂

 

 

Old Photos


Pieces of paper that hold a link to the past.

The edges are curled; they won’t lay flat.

 

In shades of grey and black they are bound to the page.

Eyes that no longer see, from a long ago age.

 

My history, I’m told, in the faces of that time.

The images are cold; frozen in time.

 

These strangers we cling to, a link to the past.

We long to connect; a link to be grasped.

 

We close the album pages; trusting again

We’re leaving a link, for our family & friends.

 

Copyright © 2017 Penny Wilson

Who Is This Guy?


I found this amazing photo on Unsplash.com.  Credit goes to a photographer that goes by “Vero Photoart”.   She has a website that you can check out here:  http://verophotoart.wixsite.com/photo

After recently having what I consider to be a milestone birthday, I’ve started to write about aging on a couple of different occasions.  But those writings took directions that I was not happy with.

While looking for inspiration for my aging piece, I came across this photo.  I keep going back to it and looking at it.

I wonder about the story behind the photo.  Who is this guy and what’s his story?  How old is he?  I bet he’s not really that old.  It looks like his hair is wet.   His beard is neatly combed.

Look at his eyes.  I see stories there.

It has made me so curious that I’ve written to the photographer and asked her about him.  We’ll see if I get a response.  I will keep you posted!

What do you think?  What do you see in this photo?

W – Withered


Hands

W – Withered

When you look at me, do you see the passions of a young girl?  Do you see me?

These hands once held a favorite baby doll. They tenderly held a lover.  They held a child to comfort and a spouse as they passed.

These feet, skipped, danced and played in the rain.  They wore high heels and hiking boots.

I once told secrets in the dark, giggling with childish delight.   I ran and jumped and fought imaginary pirates, or cowboys.

Behind these eyes, once sparking and clear, lies the heart of adventure and daring.  Yesterday my long dark hair would fly behind me as I chased tomorrow.

Now my body moves slowly and the aches and pains are many.  My hair is thin and silver.  My memory of yesterday is not as clear as it once was.

When you look at me, do you see me?  Or do you see the withered shell?

 

Moving, Yet Again


moving

 

I don’t usually use my blog like a journal, but today I’m making an exception.  Moving is stressful and sometime traumatic, and dear readers, I am subjecting myself to it, willingly, yet again!

I was born with wheels on my butt.  At least it seems so.  I have lived all over the United States.  As a kid, I had a step-dad that picked fruit for a living.  Later on, my mother married a man in the Air Force.

Much of my early youth was spent in the back of the station wagon.  We would load up and move with the car piled high with our belongings.  We looked a bit like the Beverly Hillbillies.  I would be in the very back of the wagon with my baby brother.

After I moved away from home, at the tender age of 16, I continued to move.  My first marriage at 16 yrs. old didn’t work out.  Big surprise there, huh?  So I moved from Texas to Wisconsin, then back to Texas and finally to Oregon.

I spent a lot of years in Oregon, but moved and lived all over the state.  At one point I moved 6 times in one year!  Crazy, I know.

34 years later I find myself back in the state of Texas and still moving.

I’ve been here about 3 years now and have lived in an apartment during that time.  The apartment, although nice, is not the same as living in a house.  So I got it into my head that I wanted to move, yet again.

I’m getting too old for this crap!

Although I have hired someone to move me, there is still a LOT of work involved in getting ready to make the move.

There was a time when I could load all of my possessions into my Volkswagen Bug and move.  Well, not anymore.

When did we decide we need all this STUFF?

I work full time and I have always been the type of person that is done in after 40 hours.  With the added chore of having to pack, mark, stack, clean, etc., etc., for moving, I am exhausted!

And I’m not done!  I have to finish packing and then make sure the apartment is clean and ready for me to vacate so I can get my deposit back.

I guess I’m whining.

There is still another week and a half before my move.  I have one more full weekend to get everything done that I need to do.

Do I hear any volunteers?   Hello?  Anyone?

 

My Body Has Betrayed Me!


At what point did my body start betraying me?

I used to be able to party until dawn, get home just in time to shower, change my clothes and go to work.  Yeah, I’d be hung over as hell, but I could do it!

Now, I wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing!

I get pissy if someone wants to have a “late” meeting or dinner, say, 8 or 9pm?   I’d think, “What the hell?  I’m on my way to a bubble bath and my comfy jammies by then!”

Continue reading “My Body Has Betrayed Me!”