"prehensile" poems - Hello Poetry

~~~ “To exist is to change, to change is to mature, to mature is to go on creating oneself endlessly.” Henri Bergson well in that case, I’m either the most immature teen here, or Rip Van Winkle the re-creation process is six, nearly seven, decades long (you thot days, ha, no way), can’t recall the last name I called myself the delving, the researching, the forgetting, the fifty first dates of no short term memory, the checkdown, throwback Thursday of did I write that? no recollect, the pretense of prehensile strength to touch you and me simultaneously might, could be true, if you claim I authored it, ok with me and all that life taught me this, the one who oft hangs around very young kids learns a lot, and soon recognizes maturity indeed endless but not senseless just a poem-of-the-day process indeed every sense says the minute difference between this morning and this approaching midnight, an opportunity to grow up, stand straighter, uprighter, write down my failures one more time, cause that is the sterling hallmark impressed upon thyself, ourselves, that is genuine maturity, the courageous wisdom to start all over again the clock has transgressed, moving past the 12:00am digits, which for cause makes me giddy, it’s permission to write a new one, of course, maturely thinking I still got one within, a newbie, an aged day-old brand new baby, a poem, of course god bless, I’m all grown n’ growled up, with wisdom to know I don’t got nada, but own the immature youthful courage of maturity, to keep on trying, endlessly, being your obedient-servant ~~~ *p.s. this is kind of love poem of thanksgivings, a love poem with no misgivings, a thank you for the fragments of sharing - hold so dear, the best reason to mature, the best reason to change, the best reason to write right now, here comes the mojo my newest oldest friend, reminding for the last and first time that I’m all growed, using the bigliest words I’ve known to say baby, hey baby, good night good morning write us a poem, a thank you note, from one who blessedly forgets his name, day in and year out* For that guy, you, that ancient kid, That poet-in-retrograde so rewrite the title, a refresh, are you immature enough to write? 1:12am ~for the crew~

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Apr 18, 2019

Apr 18, 2019 at 1:28 AM UTC

nat-lipstadt

Are you (im)mature? The best reason to write

~~~ “To exist is to change, to change is to mature, to mature is to go on creating oneself endlessly.” Henri Bergson well in that case, I’m either the most immature teen here, or Rip Van Winkle the re-creation process is six, nearly seven, decades long (you thot days, ha, no way), can’t recall the last name I called myself the delving, the researching, the forgetting, the fifty first dates of no short term memory, the checkdown, throwback Thursday of did I write that? no recollect, the pretense of prehensile strength to touch you and me simultaneously might, could be true, if you claim I authored it, ok with me and all that life taught me this, the one who oft hangs around very young kids learns a lot, and soon recognizes maturity indeed endless but not senseless just a poem-of-the-day process indeed every sense says the minute difference between this morning and this approaching midnight, an opportunity to grow up, stand straighter, uprighter, write down my failures one more time, cause that is the sterling hallmark impressed upon thyself, ourselves, that is genuine maturity, the courageous wisdom to start all over again the clock has transgressed, moving past the 12:00am digits, which for cause makes me giddy, it’s permission to write a new one, of course, maturely thinking I still got one within, a newbie, an aged day-old brand new baby, a poem, of course god bless, I’m all grown n’ growled up, with wisdom to know I don’t got nada, but own the immature youthful courage of maturity, to keep on trying, endlessly, being your obedient-servant ~~~ *p.s. this is kind of love poem of thanksgivings, a love poem with no misgivings, a thank you for the fragments of sharing - hold so dear, the best reason to mature, the best reason to change, the best reason to write right now, here comes the mojo my newest oldest friend, reminding for the last and first time that I’m all growed, using the bigliest words I’ve known to say baby, hey baby, good night good morning write us a poem, a thank you note, from one who blessedly forgets his name, day in and year out* For that guy, you, that ancient kid, That poet-in-retrograde so rewrite the title, a refresh, are you immature enough to write? 1:12am ~for the crew~