October 2023
Bio Note: I’m about to confront another birthday-- which, for me, often turns out to be a time when a brand-new lugubrious poem starts taking shape. But I've recently learned that if I distance the whole experience by shaping it into a sonnet, I feel a whole lot better. Here’s my latest:
The Coming of Age
Last summer, I grew old. It was gradual
and damned implausible, I thought. Why mention
something so subjective—and so fragile?
Why give it any serious attention?
Just a quaver of the brain, I thought.
A gathering of neurons that were sick
and tired of catering to an overwrought
mob of memories on a pogo stick.
I’m talking arms and legs here. And sensations
sometimes called reflections. Dreams. Desires.
Know what I mean? No useless speculations,
flimsy euphemisms, qualifiers—
but I’m not worried! Just a bit perplexed
about what’s pretty likely coming next.
©2023 Marilyn Taylor
Editor's Note: If this poem(s) moves you please consider writing to the author (email address above) to say what it is about the poem you like. Writing to the author is what builds the community at Verse Virtual. It is very important. -JL