Sunday, June 8, 2014

The Middle Years


There’s something powerful
In the nostalgia
Of an old radio show,
Perhaps it’s the grandmother
And the great uncle
We hear in the muffled voices
Of bodies long-dead,
Ghost of their voice strings
Conjured to live again
In the existence of our ears,
Our heads, in the same old language,
Memory of a southern dialect
Sizzling like an antique transistor radio
Into our morning rituals
As we butter our toast just right,
Push the ache of our backs
Into eloquently-carved dining chairs,
A solitaire place-sitting for the single.
How loneliness at middle-age
Touches you, and your mother,
In almost the same way,
Crunching dates and numbers
Into a Fiber One breakfast,
Slumping into yoga pants
For the sheer, cotton pleasure
Of elastic comfort.
You smile at your ancient
Inner soul sister,
Shiny-eyed and decked in
Mary Janes and school-girl braids,
Embrace the life in times gone by
And bid those middle-years
A defiant, brittle-boned ‘hello.’

Written for prompts at Magpie Tales and Sunday Whirl.  Also to be shared at Toads for open link.


  1. They don't call it the "magic of radio" for nothing! Your poem reminded me of this video-clip: It really is quite interesting to see, if you get a moment to view it.

  2. whoa. the substance and honesty. great write

  3. Strong, to the point and full of truth! I love it!

  4. As we change it is essential to take our memories with us otherwise we find we find we are living with a dull old person...ourselves. How insightful and poignant this is.

  5. that makes me wanna listen to some of the old radio shows again as well... we don't seem to have them over here so much but i remember some plays from back when i was a kid... very cool magic in this indeed

  6. "How loneliness at middle-age
    Touches you, and your mother,
    In almost the same way"

    That's exquisite.

  7. What a wonderful reminiscence..and yoga pants..ahh yes..a sheer joy...a beautifully evocative and tender poem..

  8. Modern day repository of the racial memory , cave paintings of the age of oil.....

  9. Ah... The sheer cotton pleasure makes me smile (and long to get out of my 'day' clothes). Really enjoyed this!

  10. Yes...I relate here...a lovely treat as always...


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