Passing Fashions

When they grow up they dress in a new life:

a family of new suits and shirts to wear.

And the ties are new too.

He strides out on his new catwalk

proudly wearing his new self,

blind to the day the cloth may unravel

or fade or lose its style.

What will clothe him then?

I shall not grace his shoulders again:

I am the coat he has outworn

in my pockets are his memories

my cloth no longer warms

and perhaps my line is no longer right.

If he sees me in his cupboard

it will be to wonder why I still remain

and he has not rid himself of me.

I am no more than his past:

a presence felt beneath the mind

but still I hang there, quietly fading.

clothescoatsfamiliesfashionlifememoriessuitsthe past

◄ Danse Macabre

I read a poem ►

Comments

<Deleted User> (13762)

Mon 27th Nov 2017 08:57

well hello you back! Thanks for that Chris. I'm more SW than mid - Carmarthen way.

Profile image

Chris Armstrong

Sun 26th Nov 2017 16:36

On the Other Side of the Hill

As I sit in my cottage
bedroom-office
thinking
I wonder who they are
these others
who share my words:
those who just bump into me
fleetingly
and the old friends
visiting.
What brings us there?
We know
our common thread
is language:
words with which we play
words which lay us bare
words which salvage
our souls.
But that common thread
connects our minds
only.
Our bodies remain estranged:
You may be on the other side of my hill
in mid-Wales
or not.
But a good word to use now is
Hello
You!


<Deleted User> (13762)

Sun 26th Nov 2017 09:20

really enjoyed this Chris - I started to leave a comment which turned into a poem, it's a little rough and raw just like those times and the music we enjoyed. Cheers, Col.

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message