Any final appeals to you gaoler, joker,
Earl of Poughkeepsie?
That my hips and knees,
shoulders and elbows,
their ball and socket truth –
Would become mortar and pestles,
the crucible of age,
turning, turning in a widening gyre –
daily grind
making meal of me
Hangman, oh hangman,
did you have to save
every fallen strand of hair,
weave life's every twist and turn
to the end of my rope?
Strike me this, Jolly Rodger –
as I drop from the yardarm
through empty air, wind and rigging
creaking in the wooden blocks –
let my soul unfurl to sail
The Sunday Muse
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qbit 
Ah, a fine finger @ Mortality! I love the nod to Yeats. This reminds me a little bit of the Simon & Garfunkel song “Save The Life of My Child” especially the ending.
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Thanks. Was also thinking a bit of Led Zepplin III and Gallows Pole. You know, that Classic Rock/Yeats vibe, LOLOL!
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Wow Qbit, I love what you did with this. The rope, the twist and turn and the last line that is absolutely stunning! Calypso indeed!!!
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LOL! Thanks! And your perfect rejoinder “The Twist” – !!!
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Aging! Pfft! Love this. My ball and socket truth is badgering me this week, but I still have a few dance steps in me. Love this poem!
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Ahahaha! Yep.
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You’ve captured the aging process so well with your imagery, q. Multi-sensory magnificence. I also like the plea for a gentle passing.
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Thank you!
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You’re welcome.
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I love “let my soul unfurl to sail”……and I, too, loved the reference to Yeats with the widening gyre……..
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Thanks!
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Sailor’s lament. 🙂
..
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through empty air, wind and rigging
creaking in the wooden blocks –
let my soul unfurl to sail
It can really be painful when they do happen. All would want to be free of it and runoff. Love the beautiful way of expressing the dilemma!
Hank
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As Betty White so pungently remarked, old age is not for pussies. Yet there are moments…even tied on the whipping post, or waiting for the Gallows Pole, where we’re able to sense something so much richer and more complex than the cheap beer of youth..or so your poem makes me feel. I love that first stanza, and the ‘crucible of age’ which melts us down, hopefully turning some Led into gold. Killer finish as well.
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Thanks!! Killer ending indeed, lol!
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Feeling that ball and socket mortar and pestle this week. Am I supposed to get such a lift from that last line? Love the image of a soul under a full sail.
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Yeah, I was feeling creaky this week too.
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A gentle unfurling would be a nice way to go … deftly written poem, love it.
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Thanks!!
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That must be the end song of every tired soul.
Wonderful poem.
Good Sunday qbit
Much💖love
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Good Sunday to you Gillena!!
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Got me in the solar plexus …. a start reminder of # 80 fast approaching. Those creaking shoulder joints also tell me so. One of my favorite qbit poems (for damned certain / feeling spunky.)
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Hahaha!!! Thanks!!
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the daily grind making meal of me, I have surely felt like that a time or two. Let my soul sail, may the wind be with you…
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Yes!!
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Ditto to all the appreciative comments. I love your words, the way they play with aging and the image of a sailing soul. Lovely writing.
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Thank you!
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