Gnarled to Knurled

flyingfish

 

Babies and young saplings are silky smooth,
    adorned by curls and twirls, unfurled.
But age assails and weather beats brows
    to dry, and wrinkles the smooth with furrows and lines.
Twists and contortions compels yields and compliances
    reshaping the surface to bumpy with knots and gnarls,
    knurling a rough grip to deny the slip
    that smooth young skin and wills
    are prone to show when asked to follow a lead.
The rough and worn acrimony of old age,
    despite the crabby, cantankerous snarls,
    can be gripped and convinced to comply and yield.
It is the gnarls of age that knurls the grip.

  • Author: John Richard Anderson (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: September 3rd, 2021 00:01
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 7
  • Users favorite of this poem: rebmasters
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Comments +

Comments1

  • L. B. Mek

    guess that's why plastic surgery
    and age lengthening, self-experimentation
    is a wining industry, in our modernity..
    funny, how we hide and seek is an archaic
    children's game, nowadays;
    and yet, we adults
    use it as our mantra for everything we dislike
    about our life's realities...
    regression, the chosen option for those
    left waiting, for 'something to happen'...
    (can't say, I was a fan of the image
    your words curated in my mind
    but like all medicine, if its not unpleasant
    you cant trust it to work,)
    thanks for sharing, dear poet



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