Well, I’m glad you enjoyed part of it anyway. The ‘bitter and condescending’ came as a bit of a surprise, I have to admit. That’s certainly not the spirit that this piece was written in, but poetry rings everyone’s ‘emotional bells’ differently. One person can read words and see simple truth, while another might see satire, or humor, or even bitter condescension. C`est la vie.
Poetry / Expiration Dates
Expiration Dates
Hey youth! With your hip-huggin’ sashay walk,
and your torn-denim, rock star swagger-
I wonder,
What is it you see, when
you look at me?
A nondescript woman, forty something-
and reasonably well preserved?
I’ll bet you imagine
my life to be dull-
Just one of many cookie-bakers
strolling the mall,
in search of polyester and comfortable shoes-
Is that the way you see me?
Well youth, how about you pull up a chair
and I’ll give you the lowdown-
the facts as I know them,
honest, plain and clear,
Because one look at you and
I can see
that you’re clueless-
about women like me.
The first thing I’ll tell you is that I am COOL-
No, not pink hair, pierced eyebrow, fashion-victim cool-
Or, midlife lunacy, ‘wish-I-was-eighteen-again’ pathetically grasping at cool-
Or, gray is the new black and I-wear-a-beret, (oh-so tedious, artificial-artsy cool)
No baby-
I’m talking about the state of ‘True Cool’.
It’s sort of a Zen state, that is only achieved
after one stops trying to achieve it-
You place the opinions
of others in a pile on the road,
Then you turn your back-
and you leave it.
You say Hey! That’s me! I’m cool!
I don’t care what people say-
Look at my Goth clothes or my rock star bandana-
If I cared about people, would I dress
this way?
Well grasshopper, let me tell you my son-
It was the opinions of others
that chose your ensemble.
Blank stare—- aww, forget it.
One day you’ll get it.
Let’s move on.
Now, let me share with you
one of the mysteries of life-
When a man is young, he
takes a wife, and she is
His partner through thick-and thin, or
until he reaches mid-life.
And for this short season,
He is quite insane-
(yes, insanity is what is HAS to be)
he’ll look at women and change his selection-
And tell me, what sane man
would get rid of his wife-
Just as she’s reaching perfection?
Yes PERFECTION.
For at forty-something, our sexiness
has evolved, it has risen
from the primordial soup
of girlish giggles and feigned bashfulness-
Rising out of the bubble-gum pink lava-
With confident, predatory eyes-
It has become something else, something earthy,
and feral, that fills the air with spice-
I rise-
Armed with exotic arrows- aimed at the
target of his heart,
My strong fingers can pull taut the string-
The snap! The zing-
The release-
I let my arrows fly
And hit a bull’s-eye every time
My senses keen, golden, tingling,
I am the shining archetype-
I am Huntress.
Youth! Did I lose you?
You really must pardon me
for my momentary reverie-
Moving on, shall we?
Now, I promised you truth-
Truth without lies-
So listen up youth-
I’d like to tell you I’m WISE.
I secretly smile at the ‘roll’ of your eyes-
Your arrogant resistance to the idea
is no real surprise.
But I’ll say it again, my youthful friend-
Wise-
I am a self-assured woman in my prime-
Which means that I won’t waste my time
Trying to convince or impress you.
Youth will always tediously
second-guess you.
(which is fine)
As long as you grasp-
That I have seen and I have been,
things that youth can’t imagine.
I’ve traveled paths still unknown to you,
Banging my head and gashing my knees-
on the pitfalls and pot-holes, most painfully-
having to pick myself up.
And yet-
I do not walk with slumped shoulders-
from past injuries-
I hold my head high.
I have known days more glorious
than any sunrise, where I saw true magic
with my own two eyes, as my granddaughter was
placed, warm and wiggling, into my trembling hands,
and I gazed into my daughter’s eyes, and
saw burning there, the fiercest pride-
It was reflected in my own gaze
As we beheld this babe- our hearts
pounding in unison- something ancient
and tribal-
ah youth- if you were to see
a mother’s heart unmasked-
You would quake and fall in the brightness.
But I’ve wandered…
and you wonder-
What is my wisdom anyway?
The culmination of many years-
I’ve known heartache, and great triumph,
have fallen down in fits of ridiculous laughter,
Been crushed by an ocean of salty tears,
I’ve known dark bitterness, and soul-wrenching happiness,
unspeakable joy and sorrow-
Such were the colors of my yesterdays
And the hues of my tomorrows-
They await you as well, my youthful one
I could weave you the tale
as we sit here today-
But I don’t think I’ll bother, for
the tale is long-
and you wouldn’t listen anyway.
It is the nature of youth-
To go your own way.
So you wonder-
why did I bother talking to you at all?
So that maybe the next time
You stroll through the mall
And you see all the women that look like me-
Or when you look at your mother, you can
do so with wisdom-
understanding who it is that you see.
Maybe now, (just maybe) you won’t say to yourself…
Well, for her- life is over-
For her- it’s too late…
If only you could comprehend-
that
Women don’t come with expiration dates.
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fried_green_tomatoes reviewed Version 1 -
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October 20, 2006
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I thought that in parts this poem dealt well with ageing in the sense that young people may fail to see people older than them as legitimate in some way, but generally I was put off by the self-congratulatory tone of it. it made me wince in parts, though I thought it was written well enough, the condescending air of it really turned me off. In your defensive reaction against the ‘youths’ in your poem, you fall foul of exactly the same generalised viewpoints that you rail against, which, for me, invalidates the argument completely.
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Suz reviewed Version 1 -
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I really liked the parts after the Huntress. Before that it sounds bitter and condensending. You almost lost me.
The remaining verses are full of wisdom and sharing. It rings with the power of self recognition.
I especially like the title and last sentence.
Women don’t come with expiration dates.
Indeed!
onlywish reviewed Version 1 -
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I am clapping, Applauding, a standing ovation. This would also make a wonderful spoken piece or to music. It’s about time someone wrote a great story about woman. Brilliant your rhyme the pauses all set in tempo with the best tasting words to roll off my tongue and slid on passed my lips my lips. I am not going to list everything I liked about your poem, then I have to cute and past the whole thing. It just sails a long at a good clip, with one after another enlightenment for the boys as well as myself. Masterful done.
Gabe reviewed Version 1 -
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Wow… and I’ll say it again wow. My mom has always been my best friend and this just makes me think of all the times people my own age thought it was weird, or worse, wrong and I couldn’t find words to explain. This about sums up everything I could never say, probably because I didn’t really understand myself.
Jordan reviewed Version 1 -
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purplemind reviewed Version 1 -
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damn!
i gave you a ten, not only for the choice of subject matter, but your writing engaged me.
it made me feel proud of this mid-lifethang, in a way which i already do know but with a different understanding, through your eyes.
i sometimes think it is a shame they don’t know, but dues must be paid-eh?
and we now know that youth is definitely wasted on the young!
and you is cool!
thanks for a great read!
solange
Drake_Lightle reviewed Version 1 -
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I felt this kicked ass…that’s what I felt.
But it’s really an “I told you so” piece…meaningless until you can get the meaning…and then you’re no longer Youth. But a tragic-kind of comedy for the life-learned and learning.
Now you’ve got two of the best poems I’ve seen here…I can see a book coming together now.
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