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Rated: E · Poetry · Personal · #1703580
this poem concerns itself with the frailties of man

I used to be a soldier on the battlements of life;
Repelling all invaders fighting demigods and strife.
Defending ladies honour from the dastardly and cold;
But now my sword is broken and my armour’s rusty, old.

I used to be a racing driver fearless on the bends,
Wheel to wheel I’d drive the gauntlet careless where it ends.
Spending days with lovers and warm nights in my chateau;
But Silverstone’s a distant dream along with Monaco.

I used to be a boxer once, who fights for gold, alone,
A champion, a legend who they say had hands of stone.
Eating steaks and caviar and drinking fine champagne,
But those are jaded memories in a blurred and battered brain.

I used to be a financier, who dealt in oil and land,
Economies would rise and fall like cards within my hand.
Politicians courted me and envied my cartel;
But now those cards have fallen on this aged and weary shell.

I used to be a rock star living wildly on my yacht,
Lazing in Mustique or running horses at Ascot.
When once a bird of paradise with all material things,
I’m now an ageing butterfly with worn and faded wings.

I used to be a young man unafraid and full of verve,
But now as age encircles me, I must maintain my nerve…


Dan Lake
© Copyright 2010 Daniel Lake (daniel-lake at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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