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 |