Thirty Nine Years

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
I started writing poems at thirty nine. The same age Dylan Thomas was when he died.

Submitted: January 19, 2017

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Submitted: January 19, 2017

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I have been writing my thirty nine years 

Stories of horror and crime and space

But it has taken till now for my pen to wander 

Into the sunflower meadows of poetry.

 

Thirty nine years old and I write

Poems in some literary midlife crisis

But this age in the life of a true poet

Achieved more than my few scribbled lines.

 

Dylan was that age when he passed

Dead at thirty nine in New York

The lord of the apple towns gone

The man poet passing into legend.

 

By my age Ted Hughes had lived a poet’s life

Courted tragedy, turmoil and controversy

He had been midnight visited by the fox

Had found the Crow and followed his path.

 

John Cooper Clarke was a Salford punk

By thirty nine he’d written his sharpest verse

Evidently punk was done and gone

Gone to live in bloody Chickentown.

 

Having written her impressive Colossus

Sylvia left nine years younger

Leaving the world and her children behind

To read and interpret her words.

 

And yet here I am excited, departing

Aware that I am running late

On a journey to an unknown destination

Unsure when or even if I will arrive.


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