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Click hereWhen did I become this stranger?
What strange land has replaced my home?
And who is this woman offering her cheek
not her mouth for a kiss?
Who took down the mirrors? Removed the view?
Who chose this terrible colour? And who stuck
that picture in my passport that makes
people look at me so.
Who shouts "Qui Vive?" I know
coppers get younger but when did they
get so threatening?
Why must I move on? Where to?
Whose clothes are these? Am I
really that size? Or have I growed
like Topsy, in the night?
Is it night again soon?
Have I slept? I can't remember:
am I meant to be this wretched?
Is this how I usually feel?
Is this who I really am?
so enjoy your poetry friday. I got a real feel for it. Although I do not understand aging in this sense, I catch the emotion--a sense of loss. I can only liken it to going from childhood to womanhood. In fact, you just gave me an idea for my own take on this poem!
The loss of innocence, as opposed to the loss of youth.
and...to me you are a man of youthful emotion willing to share those feelings.
Nice.
"I know
coppers get younger but when did they
get so threatening?"
- Yes, exactly.
"What strange land has replaced my home?"
- Yes, again. It's not fair. (I'm trying to make it sound funny but I mean it too.)
"Who took down the mirrors? Removed the view?"
A really good - what? Image? Extension? Hyperbole? But great anyway.
This is a seriously good poem, I feel. Perhaps you have to be old to appreciate it - or, at least, at that age when you're not old really but everything gets younger all around you.
"Why must I move on? Where to?"
Exactly.
I'll be coming back for more of this one, I think. (If poets have to search for a voice, I think you've found yours.)
- polynices