At 0 one sees the universe in the womb
From the stars above to the ancient tombs
Eating what mother finds best for us both
Everyone hasn't met you, yet you still bring hope

From 1 to 5, you learn to survive
Stay away from that stove! Don't run with that knife!
Mommy seems tired and daddy always plays
But just say the magical words and you'll always have your way

From 6 to 10, everything is sudden
You start school; you try to be cool
You're no longer allowed to get your clothes muddied
And you won't always need mommy when you go to the pool

From 11 to 12 you start fearing high school
Final years in primary, getting closer to your destiny
You start seeing crushes, as you drool
And wonder what's so cool about that word you learnt "******"


13, standalone, a bridge between know it all and human
Running around before the arcade closes to join your legion
Pimples all around, hair growth is profound
You seem a quiet kid, yet around crowds you become loud
Everybody judges you, and your crush won't play your games
You seem too deep into school, don't bunk? You must be lame!


14-16, From the bitter to the "sweet" 16
Depending who you ask, it's the best years of your life
Though many say that about your 20s
Missed an opportunity? There'll be plenty.
Comfortable being uncool, you're just a teen
You don't need others' opinions or their strife

17 to 18, from youth to young adult
You start hating your friend group, it's all their fault!
Why were you a blabbermouth? Keep your words in the vault!
Slow to speak to a crush, but overexposing like a bolt
Everyone already applied. Should I take a gap year?
Nobody is saying goodbye. Why am I in tears?

19. Might as well not even be a teen
Your back hurts, your spleen,
Uni said No, and college is pricy
I'm playing with my future. This is getting dicey.

20, never smoked, drank or kissed
Everything here seems amiss
College is for adults yet this feels like extended high school
Lecturers complain students flirt with them, students complain lecturers are on them
Who's lying? Who's right? Why does that one kid always wanna fight?

21, almost there, special year, conquering fears
Grandma died? I might have to repeat?
Passed the module but granny passed away
There's still so much I wanted to say
This isn't about me, I have to get payed
Too much is on the line. I'll get off my seat and wipe my tears
21! You're an adult now!


22-24, Graduated, got a job, I wouldn't know much about this field
Many say you grow into it, others say you never yield
Alcohol still tastes bitter, a high school crush keeps in contact?
Maybe I truly am better off. Lost friends and family, but I'm still intact


25, the frontal lobe developed
My ideas have finally enveloped
Many at this age are married, have kids, even grandkids
You sit at home, can't afford your own, you can't open the mayo jar's lid

It is amusing to consider that this is regarded as a quarter of your existence.
everything changed, and you stayed persistent
Birthdays don't matter anymore and you can do whatever
But you're old now? And can't chase childish endeavours.

Run it back. Where did we get lost?
How much would it cost to do it all over again?
To apologize and hug that friend
Tell that dead relative that you're sorry
Tell everyone your story
Live a little, once more

If fusty galaxies twirl like Shakespearian poetry,
is astrology a tragedy or a comedy?

Are there clusters of tumbling uppercase in outer space,
the remnants of conceit metaphors that broke up like meteors?

My scattered universe is full of orphaned verse.
Why do terse alien names all have hyphens?

Quatrains swirl in fiery hues across the ecliptic plane,
and sonnets streak by, like sparkling comets.

Argh! Where’s a pencil - too late - the thought’s gone.
Ever lose something essential - cause you couldn’t find a pencil?

It’s ok though, it’s not just me and not just you.
Black holes are swallowing Haiku too.
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Songs for this:
Hypnotized by Fleetwood Mac
Theme for a **** Beach by The B-52's
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I saw a line with something like, “universe of orphaned verse,” in a poem a few days ago. The idea of celestial words rhyming with writing terms ‘mused’ me. I’ve been looking for the author to credit them (hello, computer searches). If you know the guilty party, please let me know.
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*No, this is NOT a sonnet, it’s just the name

Wipe your tears
I wasn't meant to be here forever.

Did I say I love you
or was it unuttered
too feeble to be heard!

Maybe you knew it in the small moments
our eyes met
you could read my emotions
in the chance glance
I cast into that ocean
and you caught its fleeting shadow.

Do your tears betray that love
of two souls on a voyage
in turbulence and calmness
in light and in darkness
building nests on the way
where you showed the child the sky
to fly away one day.

You too  never made
I love you audible
but I heard them in your lips' quiver
like a prayer.

The evening shades have descended
and a peaceful darkness is upon the land.
Clear star filled skies and a new moon on
the rise.

The frogs and crickets are in fine fiddle,
their night music in tune, romancing the
air with their hypnotic rhythmic tempo.
The garden fountain is playing along, water
sounds join the musical chorus as does the
light fresh westerly breeze rustling the leaves
of my two garden birch trees. Truly a musical
symphony to my old man ears. Another
tranquil night interlude heard and enjoyed.
Add a purring cat on my lap, I am content.

I left behind a home
Though one in only name
I know not what I search for
But couldn’t stand it be the same
To be bound was to be free
In the confines of a cell
Yet to be free is to be bound
By no good that I can tell

In taking to the seas
I hoped for some great change
But found that all things blended
And only varied in their range
I had not found myself
Among the waves or great white coast
I thought a path had opened
But it vanished as a ghost
No one or thing could remedy
The hurt I fostered close
No one or thing could change it
But the one was wounded most

So here across the Farrow Sea
I pull a dagger from my heart
Here on distant shores I sit
A world and man apart

Vintage Chanel lives rent free in my mind
the colors are deep, subtle and magical.
Over time, the originally soft textures,
become luscious, like a lover's caressing touch.

In college, you dress down,
you want to blend in, not stand out
gods forbid you flag entitlement
and draw envy's barbed compliments.

The simple styles bear the twin burdens
of camouflage and practicality.

In Paris, fashion can be capricious,
but elegance is a silent conversation,
with its own intricate vocabulary in drape,
line, fabric and in painstaking choice.

In places where fashion matters - Paris, Manhattan, the Hamptons,
it can signal position, the way uniforms signal authority everywhere.

A splash of fashion can not only have a fabulous effect
on how its wearer feels, it can tell important stories.

I’m told that, in back rooms, where fortunes are awarded or lost,
fashion can announce arrival, rank, and intent.
It can whisper new wealth, in upstart display
or a threadbare, silent duel with mounting debt
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Songs for this:
The Way It Is by Bruce Hornsby & The Range
Read Between the Lines by The Bingtones