39… #poetry #poem

39 steps on the stairway to heaven
Pier 39 where the sea lions bask in the sun
39 circuits round the same sun of this earth
39 years since my birth

39 lines on my face tell a story
at 39 years I’m less youthful, but more-me
39 years and no body can stop me
as long as I’ve paper and ink or a battery

39 years, true love and two beautiful children
39 years, four languages, three different lands 
39 years and I’ve read lots of books and learned some things
But more from the lives that I’ve lived than the books that I’ve read

there I’ve found, reflected
aspects of this theatre of life I’ve come to know.
39 years, more than 18 months sober
that is plenty of time to mull certain things over:

39 years filled with losses and gains
but I’m grateful
that, in spite of all these pains,
these 39 years have been overfilled 
with 
love.

© Experimentsinfiction 2021, All Rights Reserved

It’s my party, and I’ll rhyme if I want to…

Yes, today is my birthday. In my experience, there are two types of people: those who make a big song and dance about their birthday, and those who prefer to keep it quiet. I fall into the former category. Why not celebrate the day you were born, and the wonderful journey of life you are on, no matter many years ago that was?

This poem was inspired by the poetry of Ivor Steven, whose work you may well be familiar with already. I recently had the privilege of reading the manuscript of his forthcoming poetry collection: Tullawalla. This collection is subtitled ‘A Meeting Place/Where My Empty Hands Are Full Of Memories And Rhymes.’ It’s an absolutely beautiful sentiment, and one which figures strongly throughout his poetry. Ivor has experienced loss and dark times, but his words are always suffused with love and gratitude. I think there is a lesson in that for all of us, and it’s one I am trying to learn for myself, as I continue to do circuits round the sun on my journey back to wherever it is I came from.

Of course, it’s always a risk writing a birthday poem. Because I may feel obliged to write one next year. And perhaps next year I’ll be feeling more like this: