Poem: Middle Aged Medieval

Middle aged invisible

caricature of your former self

rebranded in matronly guise

original shape layered with age

and the distress of sadness cloaks.

Waiting like a Christmas tree

shinning in moonlight.

Memory shapes recollection

there’s a sexy version of you hiding

glimmering in the dark like diamonds

winking fairytale blossoms

far away in history land.

You’re still beautiful but in disguise

cloaked to be uncovered

in unattractiveness’ surface

waiting to be discovered.

A fallen jewel, a lost treasure

Plain Jane Eyre ruse filters the foolish from the wise.

shallow, scratch the surface, skin deep

judging books by the cover of superficiality.

Modesty creates a protective barrier

an extra layer like a warning sign

mountains of obstacles

of imagination to climb

to see truth beyond the facade.

We were ironically safe in ugly duckling clothes

survivors wished for it then

the safety of ugliness

unwanted unpicked unslaughtered by predators

The mask arrives too late to save us

in bumpkin apparel and grannie coats.

Cinderella’s carriage reversed in puffed pumpkin fatigues.

The skinny sad waif that I was

wanted to be safe with people called family.

I grew up in a gingerbread house of malady.

Puberty is where you either grow teeth or run or hide

I hid and grew my teeth in secret wishes

Mostly self-reared and self-protected.

Some innocents were lucky

and were raised by angels in human bodies

while the rest of us coped and swallowed our tongues.

Books were my pathway of telling about cages.

Writing was my story leafing glory out of rages.

Truth was freedom ringing

fool’s gold laughing

forgiveness singing

“I will always love you no matter why”

Internal mantra lullabies

the foolhardy soul continues to hope

way past sanity’s sanctuary.

Infinity was our original future

until (greed-ego-hatred) tried to seal it away.

but you can’t steal Love.

True Love unlike it’s many imposters

thrives on genuineness,

the real, natural, possible.

Ego will drive you mad,

across the world striped with stings

starved into a ditch on purpose.

Warning bells are worth their truth past gold.


  1. What a beautiful message effortlessly flowing out through your words of wisdom! Loved all … ‘Infinity was our original future; until (greed-ego-hatred) tried to seal it away’ particularly knocked some part of me.

    Liked by 1 person

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