A new poem –
Acts of time
I haven’t tried to reinvent any wheels.
But as the hands on the face
of the clock of life turn slowly,
I find myself adopting different guises.
Periodically creating a new version of me,
Quickly changing like a chameleon on
speed, under flashing disco lights.
As the big hand on my watch speeds up
pointing to the advance of years,
my character changes every so often,
indicating that life
is there for taking.
And as the small hand on my travel clock
hustles, trying to pass me by,
I turn back time
by winding back my thoughts, seeing the echoes of
my many shredded skins –
child, schoolboy, teen, childish, adolescent, man,
lover, boyfriend, husband, father, son,
trouble, breaker, villain, drunk, sober, waster, wasted, stupid, unkind, selfish, critic,
criticised, parasite, taker, user, lazy, worker, maker, inspiration, hero, caring, provider,
punk, singer, hippy, raver, DJ, writer, poet,
crazy, alone, unamused, sad, sadder, happy, happier, amusing, together, at peace,
younger, young, older, middle aged,
And right on cue
I am at ease
with the belief that
I don’t need to cling to the past,
past glories, past versions. No need to hang
on to past times, trying to not let go – like a desperate
Band-Aid fighting to stay on a child’s knee as she
I am in a time of peace with the timely and simple realisation
that whatever stage my life is on, it is fine
to act on impulse, to learn a new set of lines.
To use my big hands and my small hands to
take the costume of whatever personality fits the bill.
To be a star.