More I hurry, slower I go.
Worry more, more troubles plague.
I am hoping some of you know.
How to change gears at my age.
How old am I? Let me see.
Must be a calendar goes that far back.
Were the Middle Ages B.C. or A.D.?
Not like I have been keeping track.
Ford had brought out the Model T;
Born after talkies and rouged knees.
Respectable women didn’t say pee.
Had radio and the grapevine, but no tv.
Telephones were huge, clunky affairs
With noisy dials took forever t’go ‘round.
Good a lot of kids were blissfully unaware
Of a lot of the ___that was going down.
May have seen the f-word on a schoolyard shed
Adults that were heard to say gosh, golly, or gee.
H-e-double-toothpicks, some of us kid wits said.
Sex ed was a stork or the birds and the bees.
Sounds like I’m yearning for “the good old days,”
I am not. Capital T Trouble has never been news.
Beat, no bread, run out-on -- who can count the ways?
It was ‘Wasn’-for-bad-luck’ gave birth to the blues.
Then, as now, folk were bent over and not let up
by Fat Cats. Lackies and backstabbers who feed.
We’ve got the ‘net, hip replacement and the sippy cup.
Lucky don't choke on a dog ‘r zag when ya shoulda zeed.
I began by insinuating that ‘getting’ old caused
my worry-wart obsessing and stripping Reverse.
It’s a lie. Just me bein’ me. Ain’ no law
against it, is there? Some chickensh--, uh, curse?
Reckon like most, I’ll muddle through, best I can.
Not like we have a lot of choice, is there.
Probably like me, with Popeye: I-yam-what-I-yam.
Alive!! Er, an’ this gear goes where??
(c) Phyllis Jean Green
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|Reviewed by Sheila Roy
|This brought back my own fond memories. It's a wonder how that happens. Great write.
|Reviewed by Jon Willey
|Pea, put it in overdrive, floor it and hold on! -- that my dear is how you shift gears at our age -- there is no holding back or reason for moderation when we want to live life to the fullest -- I bid you love and peace my dear friend -- Jon Michael|
|Reviewed by Karen Vanderlaan
|love the reality here!!|
|Reviewed by Kate Burnside
|Love this, Pea... We are shaped, moulded and pressed by external circumstances, but our reality is always the inner world that exists in the personal heart and mind - and our habitation is ALWAYS first and foremost there... No matter how bad things get, our response can be to find humour and resources to survive within and, yeah, just "be me"! This is perhaps easy for me to say today when I've just formed a local radio club and we're concentrating on producing a programme based on the Jenny Joseph "WARNING" poem... I can quite see you as a member of the Red Hatters Society - look them up if you're not already acaquainted! :)) xx|
|Reviewed by Gene Williamson
|Like always, Pea, what fun you are! Thanks. -gene|
|Reviewed by Carole Mathys
|Love your sense of humor, at least we can keep smiling as we muddle along. Well done, Pea
|Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner
|Sigh ... bring back the good ole days. If I could start again and know what I know now ... love your shining humor, THAT hasn't dulled with age. Well done, (((Pea))).
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
|Reviewed by Christine Alwin
|...so much intertwined in this festive feast of the changing of gears thru life..great write~
Blessings and Love,
|Reviewed by Axilea MU
|Warm and colloquial... Love the lines about the Middle Ages, "respectable women" and old telephones!
|Reviewed by Tom Hyland
|DEAR GREEN JEAN ....
Superbly done! thanks for the 'Walk Down Memory Lane' ... Tom.
|Reviewed by TONY NERONE
|It goes if you want, to a Romantic Heart. BTW, I loved reading about the "good old days"
GOD BLESS YOU
|Reviewed by Elizabeth Price
|You aren't the only one muddling through, I sure am. And you'd have to check with several lawyers about being yourself being a crime. Loved the write. Hugs, friend. Liz|
|Reviewed by Felix Perry
|Definately a good one...
|Reviewed by D. Vaineo
|Phyllis, Another piece of your poetry which pokes fun
at your life back then and now...Much enjoyed as always!
|Reviewed by Janna Hill
|That was fun Phyllis. Thank you.
|Reviewed by Ronald Hull
|Thanks for the wonderful romp. Your a Model T? Went hunting in one in high school. Ten miles out of town is all we'd dare at 20 mph. My grand father used to say, "Judas Priest!" a lot. We just said,"Jeez.'
Your memory and writing skill is razor-sharp. All these multitasking, driving while texting, can't find their way without GPS youngins have nothing on you except a much easier life until the unfortunate 'it" happens.
|Reviewed by Rose Rideout
|Greatly written Phyllis. We are what we are another year better.
Newfie Hugs, Rose
|Reviewed by Carmen Ruggero
|Phyllis, you're nuts!and a darned good poet, might I say? Actually, about age and being aged... I identified with all you mentioned in this poem we coul be the same age. La-di-da-di-da
|Reviewed by Laura Fall
|This was delightfully written poetry well done indeed Laura
|Reviewed by Christine Tsen
|What a charming, jazzy, elegantly witty poem!
Pure pleasure to read :)
|Reviewed by Liana Margiva
|VERY NICE!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!! Liana Margiva|
|Reviewed by John Flanagan
Of course i love this.
You are great, just great!!