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The Sad Old Man

The old man stared at the mirror in disbelief
As he dabbed on a little of his favourite fragrance:
‘Le Male’ by Jean-Paul Gaultier.
Was that really him, that saggy-faced creature?
He plucked out an intruding grey hair,
An intruder in his masculine, black, bushy eyebrows;
He had hoped his boyish good looks were still there,
Although a little frayed, a little worn by time.

In his mind's eye he sees himself as rugged,
Slim yet quietly butch; manly, masculine,
Handsome, outwardly something of a ladies’ man;
Surely no one would guess he had certain desires
(Not that he thinks of himself as perverted).
What a pity no one told him not to sport a clone moustache.
Nor can he resist those sporty Harris Tweed jackets
And masculine lumberjack shirts, so straight.

Provincial England was a hard place to grow up
With condemnation pouring out of every mouth
For perverts and poofters and prancing pansies;
Best to suppress the thoughts crowding in
And be normal, just like everyone else.
Life in the armed forces was a challenge…
All those handsome young men in the showers…
Get thee behind me Satan, to coin an unfortunate phrase.

So he had to force himself to go chasing girls,
But he always showed respect for the ladies;
What a gentleman he had always been in that respect.
Maybe a failed marriage or two
Should have told him the cold hard truth,
But the need to conform to the norms of society
Kept his real desires at bay,
Most of the time, anyway.

How he had longed in his heart of hearts
To be someone, a poet perhaps, a creative artist,
But it was not to be, and eventually he was reduced
To trolling the world wide web under pathetic pseudonyms.
How sad it was he had never lived up
To his poor old Daddy’s dreams,
And how shocked his Mummy would be now
To see her pensioner son staring at the mirror
With only a tube of KY Jelly for company every night.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Last few words: 
The last line is the masterstroke even though I say it myself.
Editing stage: 
Contest: 
Content level: 
Explicit Content

Comments

outstanding you have captured that crisiis of transition very well

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Did you like the last line? I thought it was sad that he only had a tube of lubricant as his friend.

xxx
Edna
Poet(ess) to the Stars

author comment

not really I bypassed that line

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...your comment isn't worth reading, is it, since you were obviously at the back of the queue when the humour pills got handed out.

xxx
Edna
Poet(ess) to the Stars

author comment

must your remarks be so defensive and offensive we are all entitled to our opinions here however you do not even know me I suggest you not ask for the raw truth if you are not prepared for what others really think

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What you stated was that you hadn't bothered to read the entire poem, especially the last line. I fail to see how my commenting that your opinions in that case are pretty useless is in any way "offensive". Also you haven't actually SAID what you "really think" - so how about saying it instead of just being vaguely objectionable? Yes, everyone is entitled to his/her opinion. But one needs to express it first. So, cough up.

xxx
Edna
Poet(ess) to the Stars

author comment

Actually, I quite like the guy and don't find him sad in anyway.

As for the last line, he ought try lard,

Obi.

I'll pass the suggestion on, but I think he's hooked on KY.

xxx
Edna
Poet(ess) to the Stars

author comment
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