How to age....
Make a mound of small unexplained aches, with some pains added , for better texture.
Into which you add a wine bottle's worth of memories, be they joyful or not
Add a few cups of reluctance, as many as you can find
A smattering of grace
Defiance to taste...
Liberally add all those confused thoughts
and smidgen or two of:
"When I was young"
Stir with mild anger at what the world is becoming
Set aside to rise....
whilst you go into the other room,
to forget, what you went the for.
Come back and sit a spell, for no particular reason.
Pour mix into a long rectangular box,
one with two slightly clipped corners works best.
Sprinkle the top with copious amounts of bran, but no sugar.
Place into oven,whilst complaining of creaky back or knees, your choice
Cook til well and truly done...so that when poked a snore or snot is produced
Remove from oven,
Do not allow cool, you no longer have time for all that folderol
Ice with tears for those departed, and regret of things left undone ..
Enjoy the fruit of you labour as the sun sets
Drowning the taste of sawdust with a good whiskey...
...and your prescribed
cocktail of tablets...
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 2:07 AM UTC
How to age....
Make a mound of small unexplained aches, with some pains added , for better texture.
Into which you add a wine bottle's worth of memories, be they joyful or not
Add a few cups of reluctance, as many as you can find
A smattering of grace
Defiance to taste...
Liberally add all those confused thoughts
and smidgen or two of:
"When I was young"
Stir with mild anger at what the world is becoming
Set aside to rise....
whilst you go into the other room,
to forget, what you went the for.
Come back and sit a spell, for no particular reason.
Pour mix into a long rectangular box,
one with two slightly clipped corners works best.
Sprinkle the top with copious amounts of bran, but no sugar.
Place into oven,whilst complaining of creaky back or knees, your choice
Cook til well and truly done...so that when poked a snore or snot is produced
Remove from oven,
Do not allow cool, you no longer have time for all that folderol
Ice with tears for those departed, and regret of things left undone ..
Enjoy the fruit of you labour as the sun sets
Drowning the taste of sawdust with a good whiskey...
...and your prescribed
cocktail of tablets...
Note this is the first poem from the prompt for NapoWrimo2019
(The prompt ..Write an instructional style poem)
Request permission to use this poem