Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
~and for Harlan, who loved this one best~ *"for tandem is the ever-changing, graying color of their fierce attached tenacity" waking/walking in careful pacing regular lock steps, like new cadets, counting cadence, in perfect silent, almost motionless, except for the minuscule quivering of slightly parted moving lips these two elders, still now plebes, freshmen but of a latter, graduated stage, demonstrating robustly the slow shuffle-along, a well practiced dance conjured 'in tandem' her arm, crooked in his, his other hand, in protective custody of a knight's armored chain glove encasing hers, he, shuffling just,   a precise, intended half-a-beat slower lest she ever think that she, ever be a drag upon him hair, his, threaded with daily, new arriving grays, proudly accepted as the privilege of graceful aging hers, disguised with periodic outings, outings for the hidings of life's bookmarks, conceding nothing ever to time's lunatic desire to separate them modest in dress, styling hints of  pasts' elegant, the man's hat defiant, daringly jaunty angled, a small scarf to handbag knotted, matching his Windsor knotted tie the passers-by, all smile,   the signal charm of an end game processional, thinking so sweet, yet mine eyes detect more, something hardy and radical a fierce, fierce fierceness, both fighters in the resistance, armed with tandem tenacity, ground given, but only inches surrendered, wounds resisted by scar skin toughened by the caress of ions bonding under the pressure of atomic level mutuality worn out, well past Purple Hearts, no capitulation feared, to the ever changing, enemies' new disguises, they, a two person platoon, each, having the other's back and I burst into tears on the street, a train of out loud moans, even groans emitted, like a string of perfect pearls breaking, clattering on an asphalt terrain weeping not from visions of the inevitable, sighing not from the certitude of a cycle's uptime ending* but jealous furious by this reminder delightful, angry at myself, for having lost so many wasted years, mine, the loss greatest, for absent was the fierce tenacity of tandem
0
Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 8:41 PM UTC
Tandem: The Color of Their Tenacity
~and for Harlan, who loved this one best~ *"for tandem is the ever-changing, graying color of their fierce attached tenacity" waking/walking in careful pacing regular lock steps, like new cadets, counting cadence, in perfect silent, almost motionless, except for the minuscule quivering of slightly parted moving lips these two elders, still now plebes, freshmen but of a latter, graduated stage, demonstrating robustly the slow shuffle-along, a well practiced dance conjured 'in tandem' her arm, crooked in his, his other hand, in protective custody of a knight's armored chain glove encasing hers, he, shuffling just,   a precise, intended half-a-beat slower lest she ever think that she, ever be a drag upon him hair, his, threaded with daily, new arriving grays, proudly accepted as the privilege of graceful aging hers, disguised with periodic outings, outings for the hidings of life's bookmarks, conceding nothing ever to time's lunatic desire to separate them modest in dress, styling hints of  pasts' elegant, the man's hat defiant, daringly jaunty angled, a small scarf to handbag knotted, matching his Windsor knotted tie the passers-by, all smile,   the signal charm of an end game processional, thinking so sweet, yet mine eyes detect more, something hardy and radical a fierce, fierce fierceness, both fighters in the resistance, armed with tandem tenacity, ground given, but only inches surrendered, wounds resisted by scar skin toughened by the caress of ions bonding under the pressure of atomic level mutuality worn out, well past Purple Hearts, no capitulation feared, to the ever changing, enemies' new disguises, they, a two person platoon, each, having the other's back and I burst into tears on the street, a train of out loud moans, even groans emitted, like a string of perfect pearls breaking, clattering on an asphalt terrain weeping not from visions of the inevitable, sighing not from the certitude of a cycle's uptime ending* but jealous furious by this reminder delightful, angry at myself, for having lost so many wasted years, mine, the loss greatest, for absent was the fierce tenacity of tandem
for my aussie prof: you will know me well by the color of my happy brimming tears
onlylovepoetry
Written by
Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 8:41 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem