On Age...A new poem

2005-01-18 at 1:43 a.m.

Oh my eyes! my eyes! I have been on this damn computer far too long! You see, I decided to make a site, and I have mostly made it now, but trying to do it in one evening was a big mistake. The address is www.geocities.com/starlesscountry if anyone is interested. And I have a new pseudonym - Endelyon Zethar. Because it looked cool. And its less short/well-used than Blaed.
Today I went to the Jobcentre, got into a conversation with some rather lively asian girls who talked about dodgy men in parks and the like. This never happens in London so it is something of an event - everyone studiously ignores one another normally. I don't have to go on the second New Deal course! Yay! This is because I have a degree (*waves handbag*) and "wouldn't get anything out of it". So no Brick Lane for me!
Then I came home and read a biography of Lord Alfred Douglas (the one who had it away with Oscar Wilde) which I got from the library.
And now I am off to watch the programmes recorded from last week before I die on this machine. Oh, and here's a poem:

On Age
Time played like a card-game in empty rooms
while your youth passed too rapidly,
consumed in a game of cards,
a mediocre book,
ignorant television;
you wasted time on fruitless pursuits.
Each second, minute, hour - gone forever,
never to be reclaimed,
while you withered and aged alone.
Count the white hairs now, one, two, three;
mark the delicate tracery of lines on the skin--
soon age will be irreperable,
while the television promises potions
advertised on the young--
amber to keep you youthful.
Like a condemned Rapunzel without a prince
watching in a mirror the golden hair turn grey.
You lost the hope of redemption, of love--
lost in a quest to kill time.
The old have no rescuers
and you are ageing.

About the only bit of this I actually like is "the old have no rescuers". I might do some work on that one.

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