kokopelle: Black Cat (cat black)
The first line of "Your Youth" was prompted by a verse in the song "Call Yourself A Lover" by Profiles. The result is a mixed bag, but it does accurately speak to some of the emotions I’m feeling.

Your Youth

You were just another face in all my days
one more to which I'll have to say goodbye
from the other side of the one-way veil
when my final end is met on the long march

I've seen the young faces that give me hope
when those my age seem to deny the same
bitterness at what's been now lost to them
weighs on my heart while the saplings compensate

with those my age would seem to be my fate
though my world may appear different
angst becomes the companion I can't shake
when self owned loss is a shared malady

I've traveled on these roads far many miles
accumulated the dust heavy on my boots
now I long to lay down my heavy head
bidding your youth goodbye when I pass away.

2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170705.
kokopelle: Frank n Furter (frank_n_furter)
Blue Video is about the possible “adult” tapes, now perhaps in the public eye, that I made during my fabled career as a college stripper.

Blue Video

Transgressions in the bloom of youth
caught on tape, blue video
hidden in the tombs of time
now come to light in my old age
actions meant to flip some cash
when flesh was bared to camera's eye
revealing all in survival's name
now intrudes on a present day.

Yet there I am, in a smudged frame
Father Time has had his way
the newness of the internet
harbors sins of history
just as my body has borne term's brunt
echoes of the college are besmirched
the truth is told through the grain
then baby-faced, I was love's whore.

No longer in the store's back room
behind the curtain meant to screen
innocence from the other side
life's desires for nudity
when data highways are the path
to the hubs where passions feed
it's no wonder that my feat
may be viewed in modern times.

Now looking back, I wonder how
the choices made will reflect
on how the world considers me
a quarter century past my peak
I've walked away from that place
no longer captured for all to see
though predilections may still creep
I hold them close, now discreet.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170630.
kokopelle: Black Cat (cat black)
Dancing has introduced me to many kinds of people. I am comfortable with people who once seemed distant. It was by no fault of their own, only that I did not have prior opportunities to put a human face to past strangers. The poem “Years Beckon” is dedicated to the incredible high school students I have the honor of knowing through social dancing.

Years Beckon

The years beckon in your face
promising growth beyond this day
acknowledging the present place
while hinting what lays beyond.
My eyes blur when I look
imagining visions in decades far
I’ll not be here to witness
the glory of the realized.

Innocence is still resident
I'm reminded of my own
only fragments remain now
worn down by Father Time.
Photographs remind me of
times when I was the same
though not wise enough to live
and too ready to move beyond.

Often partners moving to tunes
I am happy to share the floor
as the music pulls our strings
I admire you’ve found the dance.
Far too late I found the same
instead of now as I exclaim
fortune has move you to her wing
with late misfortune mine to blame.

Common ground is found in life
each has struggles that relate
mirrors echo the new and old
as we speak of shared angst.
Friends and equals in a space
when dialogue is engaged
walls are dropped by mutual choice
when bridges extend to each.

You’re more wise than this fool
in the ways that move your world
from these insights I may learn
about reality we both share.
Differences abound I’ll admit
you see the world in beginning steps
for me it is a bitter dusk
perhaps I’ll learn to adjust my life.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160901.
kokopelle: (Cat - Bunny Love)
I wrote “I Found” in belated celebration of Friendship Day. I am blessed with terrific friends half my age or less. The social dance scene pulls together a wide range of people. In my friends I find a lot of inspiration to retain my humanity in the face of life’s trials.

I Found

In your face I found beauty
by turn of mouth, orb of eye
by tint of skin, by all things good
brought to form for God's delight.

In your smile I found joy
full of cheer of the youth
or the glee of the senior bent
in every age bliss retrieved.

In your humor I did laugh
so often at myself
with kind wit we reviewed
jocularity shared by two.

In your presence I was moved
with the trials you sustained
on your path to this place
sharing where you used to be.

In your pain I was grieved
the angels cried as did I
you survived in the end
misery topped by bravery.

In your humanity I found myself
now remembered in your gaze
mirror to who I could be
could I return this fave?

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160808
kokopelle: Horse Totem (Default)
There are some years that are hallmarks to your life's progression. I heard a friend talking about the year 22, one year beyond official adulthood with many more to go (one hopes!). I remember that time, dimly, and now I am better for the years that have passed since then.

The Year 22

Please take me back
to the year 22
when I was young
and not so old
when I knew some things
with miles yet to go.

Turn back the days
to that magical year
the hundreds of months
each with four weeks
the dozens of seasons
marked by turning of trees.

Make me so fresh
out of youth's arms
eager to love
wondering how it all works
new to adulthood
with so much to learn.

In the year 22
I live in my heart
the years stayed in place
while I play my part
as the person moved forward
to this here and now
just as eager to learn
as my counter was young.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160602.
kokopelle: Frank n Furter (Frank-n-Furter)
The poem “Reaping the Rows” is a metaphorical exploration of aging and struggle.

Reaping the Rows

I've sowed the rows since my youth,
now I look back to the sunrise.
The crops were gathered plentiful,
but would I chose to redo it?

The soil was tilled by elder ones,
love was a main component.
I see this now at this late time
though I was blind in past moments.

Into this loam I cast my lot,
above my head the clouds gathered.
I cast the seeds with fear embraced
by self-doubt of worthiness.

The crop grew strewn with the weeds
though the yield did prospered.
Years passed as bounties came
yet there were signs of danger.

Brambles grow when ignored,
in time the thorns consumed
sacred parts most embrace
as the sanity did wither.

The fields I share are diverse
shared with other farmers.
They wish the best for my soul
though I am too trapped to see it.

Now enwrapped in twisted vines
among the treasures of living
I wonder if I would plant again
if my mind would be better.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160426.
kokopelle: (Dark God)
Life can be a tormented mix of triumphs, failures, joys, and agonies. I attended a dance during which I met all of these. The dances I did were near ecstatic. Debilitating self-doubt removed from me from the free-form dancing. I felt distant from some people I very much wanted to connect with, and I had a delightful one-on-one encounter that was not expected. A truly mixed bag, positive on balance. The majority of the pain is connected to my inability / unwillingness to reach out to people. The rest is perhaps due to differences in age / social status / generations. Both of these are too much at times.

Flowers Near At Hand

Loneliness is the place,
part of God's greatest plan
for learning the consequence
of looking for another soul.
False trails are the start
when a life is measured wrong.
Survival is the detriment
to happiness in life's heartbeat.

Is it enough to be well known,
links of a life expressed
through artifacts of achievement
forgotten in swell of time?
Dust passes from the colors,
the clock's iron will imposed.
True life is beyond the gulf
that lays between our lives.

How do I become immune
to the pain of discovery,
losing parts of myself,
when I don't know what I seek?
To stumble becomes the norm,
moving beyond what could be.
Turning back is incomplete
when life to death is the path.

Glimpses of serenity
just beyond my hesitant grasp,
I'm too slow to grab the joy
when you appear in my life.
Do I seek what I could be
in the shade of fading day?
The night will come at the last
while I dream of flowers near at hand.

© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160131.
kokopelle: Frank n Furter (frank_n_furter)
I saw “Star Wars: The Force Awakens”. Part of the draw of the movie is that some of the original actors are in this move. The accompanying actors are about the same age as their seniors, back in the 70s. This inspired me to write the poem “The Same”.

The Same
Poem for Day 357 – 20151224

See the bloom of youth,
come around again,
with the same beauty
seen so many times.

People came before,
old when I was young,
they all had their time
shining in the sun.

Now I am the same,
echo of the past.
The wheel has turned
and now I look back.

Just a memory,
oh so long ago
when I was the same
age you are today.

© 2015, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.
kokopelle: Frank n Furter (frank_n_furter)
I find myself surrounded by the beauty of youth. I also find incredible joy in seeing young(er) people participating in social dancing. Their embracing this life fulfilling activity is a wondrous thing, and at a young(er) age, this can only bode well for their futures. I am in the seniors of this group, perhaps showing that even the old(er) can be young at heart. I don't know, but the poem “Younger Life” is an examination of my life amongst the young(er) people of the world, and the lessons they teach me.

Younger Life
Bonus Poem for Day 318 – 20151115

Remind me of my younger life,
occasions met now passed along,
the time that slipped on by
while I was too busy living life.
Now I am gray in the span of years,
experienced in the loss of heart,
broken down by grinding pain,
and wishing for another chance.

I'm sure I was your age,
logic dictates it should have been,
but somehow I missed inherent joy,
possibilities of youth's loving ways.
My memories drift from happiness,
instead dwelling on the difficult.
I am sure that fate brought my way
the opportunities of these younger ones.

The sadness encroached on the sides,
adulting brought to forefront,
aging me beyond wheel's turns
when I should have rose above.
I thought I was worthless then,
not worthy to enjoy the fruits therein,
dead inside while the bloom of youth
was wasted on the beliefs of doom.

The beauty was present all around,
as much as now, but closer at hand.
How could I have been so blind
when I was young and could not see?
Shyness tied my heart in chains,
held back my tongue so I could not talk,
held back my words of passion’s breath
when we had the years to sally forth.

You remind me of my younger life,
yet in this place I find some hope.
The younger life is a frame of mind,
with time relative to all mankind.
I can focus on the here and now,
see my youth in the place I live.
In that way I will realize
that youthful ways are mine to have.

© 2015, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.
kokopelle: Black Cat (cat black)
The poem “Hills of my Youth” is an allegory of aging. The sights of youth are still seen, but the traveler has moved beyond.

Hills of My Youth
Poem for Day 285 – 20151013

There was a time I was amongst
the lovely hills of my youth.
They lay spread out in my vision,
rolling to the horizon's edge.
Beauty incarnate in majesty,
satyr's realm amongst the barrows.
Mounts of delight, knolls of bliss,
the path ran through them all.

The wheel turned, I moved on,
the journeyer betrayed by age.
Satyrs may romp but not I
on the road to points distant lay.
Now I see them from afar,
separated by the deep chasm.
The gap not of my doing,
but there nonetheless by time's hand.

Respect asked, dues given hence.
My path lays not in the altitudes,
nor in the clefts near in my youth,
these have passed out of reach.
Long trail back to the mountains,
a journey I may never take.
The hillocks are in my past,
the hills of my youth removed by time.

© 2015, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.
kokopelle: Black Cat (Cat - Black)
Two events inspired me in my poem with the theme of “smile”. The first is the ruling on same-sex marriage by the Supreme Court. An online article stated that the acceptance of same-sex marriage is driven by higher margins among the young. I saw another article that stated the Millennials outnumbered Boomers. One of my favorite songs is “I’m Counting on You” by Chris De Burgh. Like Chris, I believe that the upcoming generations are our best hope against the state of the world today.

Journey's End
Poem for Day 178 – 20150627

You see the smile on this face,
on this one twice your age.
Before I rest I now know
the world is held in good hands.
The nightmare is fading now
as I ready myself to sleep.
A new day dawns on the land
as my journey's end draws near.

Power games of the oldsters,
toxic contingencies of despair,
entrenched in dusty dogmas,
hanging onto what once was.
This was to be my legacy,
my generation’s gift to you.
With thanks you rejected it,
putting aside the barbed branch.

Poisoned fruit unplanted,
field left fallow for new growth.
You've rebuked the offering,
choosing to plant other crops.
The bloodied walls are torn down,
their protections no longer desired.
Gates opened to paths all may walk,
through gardens once blindly sacrosanct.

Now it is time for me to join
the elders passing from this world.
We've had our time, pass the stage,
and move the world along this day.
When I lay down my head,
to sleep long after this life,
you'll see me smile to myself
as my journey's end draws near.

© 2015, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.
kokopelle: (Cat - Bunny Love)
I am moving into the last trimester of my life. I am challenged to accept the dusk of my mortality. This is done begrudgely. I accept less, and I’m enraged more, when I see my young(er) friends struggling with health issues. While nothing is guaranteed in life, it is anticipated that we get a fair shake. The poem “Bloom of Youth” is a look at the emotions stirred when illness, disability, and infirmity strike those too young for these visitors. It is dedicated to a struggling friend.

Bloom of Youth
Poem for Day 156 – 20150605

Bloom of youth taken,
denied to those of promise.
Cruel tyrant of health,
what have you done?
Disability, infirmity,
release the thralls,
prisoners all,
from your icy grip.

They deserve to walk
the fields of green
in fair recompense
for their tender age.
No fields for these,
those shackled and bound.
Healers' best attempts
offer only glimpses afar

Rail at the ogre,
illness most foul,
for deeds evil,
and compassion vacant.
Dissuade the Reaper,
arrival foreseen.
Plead for reprieve
from the unwanted guide.

Could you stay my friend,
a light outshining mine.
The world needs you here,
and I would miss you so.
Bloom of youth taken,
little given in return.
Cruel tyrant of health,
be kind to this one.

© 2015. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved
kokopelle: Black Cat (cat black)
I am coming up on age 50, a half of a century. I am truly blessed to interact with adults half my age or younger. They have a vitality that inspires me. They are also have the future. Chris de Burgh wrote the song "I'm Counting On You". It is song by a father to his daughter. It has bone chilling lyrics like "My generation is losing its way, we don't know what we're leaving for you". My generation has an incredible amount of baggage. I am seeing a fresh broom in the upcoming generations. I also wonder about the world that will be theirs when they are my age. The poem “Letter to the Old” speaks to the value and nature of youth relative to older generations.

Letter to the Old
Poem for Day 069 – 20150310

Age is not wasted on the young.
It is their fertile ground
to grow and blossom
if the world does not interfere.
Damned be you if damage you do
to those who are in your care.
Do not pass your brokenness
to a generation yet to bloom.

So much potential yet untapped,
mistake not the delayed progress.
There is much yet to come,
look to the future as it unwinds.
Until then do your best
to guide them with light hand.
Be warned of your influenced limited,
of youth's immunity to your grace.

Your knowledge is void,
suspect from the start.
Stained by your mistakes
and blurred with your age.
Edges sharp with youth
not yet numbed with age.
They speak their mind
with words you've forgotten.

Life seen through new eyes
lessons yet to be learned,
mistakes to be made,
and wisdom to be earned.
Perhaps they will best your hand,
one can only hope for this blessing.
The youth will own the world
when the rest of us have passed.

© 2015. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved
kokopelle: Black Cat (cat black)
I am discovering one of life's inside jokes. A large number of my friends are adults half my age. They are vibrant, lovely, and mature beyond their years. They remind me of my past and the people I knew when I was that age. The poem “Spectral Friend” is about the ghosts of memory that I encounter, and their lesson to me, when I interact with my wonderful younger friends.

Spectral Friend
Poem for Day 011 - 20150111

We were all younger,
those many years ago.
You were so beautiful
with the blush of youth.

I see the same glow
in persons half my age,
your face hides behind theirs
as visions echo from the past.

They are half my age,
mentally you are the same,
ageless in the corridors
of my mocking mind.

Is it really you I see,
or do I long for remedy
to years slow march
from there to my maturity?

That is it, my spectral friend,
beautiful ghost of memory past.
We were all younger,
those many years ago.

© 2015. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.
kokopelle: (Cat - Felix Face)
One of the relative facts of life is that a person picks up baggage, both good and bad. The good baggage can comes in form of long-term relationships, be they family, friends or organizations. Another form of good baggage can a general sense of how the world works. Some people call this wisdom. Other people say it is “been there, done that”. The last category of good baggage is all the neat trinkets / things people pick up along the way. Look, shiny! However, with the good comes the bad too!

The bad baggage shows up in doubts, scars of both the mental and physical varieties, aches and pains, the less good long-term relationships, and the less good physical things following us like an iron ball. This baggage can show up at any age, and it accumulates as time goes on. Like the mule following the same path to the field, the baggage can become embedded just as the mule plods a furrow into the ground. Believe me, it really bears down on a person, with a crushing weight that saddens the soul.

This topic could end on a melancholy tone, but that is not my intent. I instead want to praise the thing that heartens my soul and soothes my aches. This thing is the example of youth, and specifically the promise of new beginnings and possibilities. My feelings on this topic can be summed up in Chris de Burgh's song “I'm Counting on You” on the album “The Getaway”. The song is framed from a father singing to his daughter, but I feel it is completely applicable to an older generation speaking to a young generation. Some lyrics include:

But where are the heroes, where are the dreams that I had
When I was young?
Am I hoping in vain, just to think she could change anything?
Well I'm counting on you

I'm counting on you
To bring that sweet gentleness to your world and all that you do
My generation is losing its way, we don't know what we're leaving for you
So may there be millions who feel like you do, oh my love

This sends shivers up my spine! Such hope and beauty, and this is what I see every time I socialize with the young people in my life. The melancholy induced by my baggage is dissolved in the face of the reminder of possibilities. I am still alive, my interests and abilities are still growing, and in those respects my life are as fresh as the beautiful people around me graduating from their present stations in life and moving into a whole new realm of possibilities.

The inspiration of youth reminds me that I am as young as I choose to be. I am young at heart, but blessed be, my baggage is heavy. It drops away, and the twenty-five years associated with it, when I dance. Moreover, as sad as it is that my dear contra friends are graduating and moving on, they remind me that I have the same option to graduate to new things in life. Thank you for the young because they remind us that our baggage is not life. Instead, life is about the continuing possibilities.
kokopelle: (Sinfest - The Truth)
The only constant is change... or that is the way things should be. We old(er) people get stuck in wanting things to remain the same, and it is up to the youth to drag us forward. I was inspired to think this by seeing a quote attributed to Grace Hopper's commencement speech to the Trinity College class of 1987, which was excerpted in TIME.

There’s always been change, there always will be change . . . It’s to our young people that I look for the new ideas. No computer is ever going to ask a new, reasonable question. It takes trained people to do that. And if we’re going to move toward those things we’d like to have, we must have the young people to ask the new, reasonable questions. A ship in port is safe; but that is not what ships are built for. And I want every one of you to be good ships and sail out and do the new things and move us toward the future.

What are us old(er) people to do in the face of this challenge?   Easy... think young, act young, and cultivate change. The latter will help ensure the two formers!
kokopelle: Bad Bad Bad (Bad Bad Bad)
A recent event got me thinking about faith and trust. Some back ground is kept purposely vague to protect the parties!

Nearly twenty years ago I met a wonderful young lady and we had a series of adventures over a number of years. While the events flirted with the edge of intimacy, the relationship was platonic and has remained such to this day. We are still tremendous friends even though we are separated by great distances and very rarely see each other in person.

This is where the faith and trust part comes in. Twenty years ago one adventure was quite adventurous. Years later my friend's current husband found about this event. It has caused difficulties between them. He does not believe him when she says that our relationship was not platonic. He insists something must have happened. She says no, but he says it can't be. It leaves me scratching my head that he cannot believe his mate, the person he has pledged to spend the rest of his life with. They have children and she is committed to the relationship, but he does not seem to have faith that she will remain his if she continues to see me as a friend.

I bit of intuition revealed that my friend's husband may have had events in his life that cause inherent insecurities, ones that originate years prior to meeting my friend. I suspect this does not bode well for this matter being sorted out, but love can lead to faith and trust and I hope this for them!

What do you think? Am I missing something here?


kokopelle: Horse Totem (Default)

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