#wrinkled - Hello Poetry

I wear an old shade of red. My belly is a wrinkled skin of fruit. I am no longer a ripe peach, not even a blossom. That my daughter is.

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Jan 12, 2020

Jan 12, 2020 at 8:34 PM UTC

erin-suurkoivu

I wear an old shade of red

I wear an old shade of red. My belly is a wrinkled skin of fruit. I am no longer a ripe peach, not even a blossom. That my daughter is.

6

If you cannot let go of your past, you won't be able to embrace the future. I wrote this one for a boy whom I used to like a lot. May you live for another 70 years like your grandmother May you influence young people, inspiring them to follow their dreams May you help thousands of people, making them happy May you eat all those Indonesian food you like most May you see a sky with five billion stars with someone you love (someone is not me) like your friend who visited Greece May you get wrinkled, inked and loved. I will keep you in my heart. Goodbye. 2018.12.19

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Aug 21, 2019

Aug 21, 2019 at 6:21 AM UTC

Uuntrix

Let go of the past

If you cannot let go of your past, you won't be able to embrace the future. I wrote this one for a boy whom I used to like a lot. May you live for another 70 years like your grandmother May you influence young people, inspiring them to follow their dreams May you help thousands of people, making them happy May you eat all those Indonesian food you like most May you see a sky with five billion stars with someone you love (someone is not me) like your friend who visited Greece May you get wrinkled, inked and loved. I will keep you in my heart. Goodbye. 2018.12.19

16

When is too late? Does the sun rise warm on the face of the blind? Do the deaf hear the longing in a resolved chord? Is a ravaged memory consumed by the absence of thought? A body ripens until it frightens the young. Wrinkled hands once caressed alert skin spreading ecstasy in wide arcs. Who owns these finite moments immersed in the infinite? Swept into the union of the ocean time has forever lost what is tardy.

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Mar 9, 2019

Mar 9, 2019 at 11:17 AM UTC

stephen-starr

In Love With Never

When is too late? Does the sun rise warm on the face of the blind? Do the deaf hear the longing in a resolved chord? Is a ravaged memory consumed by the absence of thought? A body ripens until it frightens the young. Wrinkled hands once caressed alert skin spreading ecstasy in wide arcs. Who owns these finite moments immersed in the infinite? Swept into the union of the ocean time has forever lost what is tardy.

19

Here's to growing up, To the young, the sad and the lonely, Here's to growing up! To the fairly old and wrinkled, Here's to go growing up, Where life is not so simple, Here's to growing up!

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Jun 11, 2015

Jun 11, 2015 at 4:55 PM UTC

Rockie

Here

Here's to growing up, To the young, the sad and the lonely, Here's to growing up! To the fairly old and wrinkled, Here's to go growing up, Where life is not so simple, Here's to growing up!

7