Of Things We Remember When We Grow Older

I pretended
when I was a kid
growing up in Martins Ferry
and sadly, I still do

About what you ask
do I pretend?
Like we both don’t know
life is simply livable
yet desperately unknowable

I used to struggle
with half-truths and other semblances
of things that aren’t things at all
just experiences we can only live

Somehow I veered off the path
I thought I should be on
Only to find
Paths are not what life is about

Why aren’t we more confident?
Willing to accept and expect
there is nothing deeper
than what we can grasp in this moment

Some say we deserve more
Like we are God’s chosen people
Who am I to argue with you?
Let alone God

We let things slip
Older we get
Most not necessarily bad
Like the time you remembered
Hugging a cousin on her seventh birthday
She kissed you on the mouth
You wished she wasn’t your cousin

I saw you at the Antler Bar–
That place men only talked to men
About things when they grow older
They wish they’d told their mothers

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About Don Iannone

Don Iannone is a poet, writer, teacher and photographer who lives in the Greater Cleveland area. He has worked in the economic development field for over 35 years. Don is the author of three poetry books and five photography books. He is working on a short book of photographs and poems about human trafficking. This work was exhibited at six venues in Ohio. Don holds an M.A. degree in Art and Consciousness Studies from the University of Philosophical Research in Los Angeles, where he teaches writing. His educational background also includes studies in Anthropology, Photography, Organizational Behavior, and Economic Development. Don’s website: http://www.donaldiannone.com Wisdom Work Press: https://wisdomworkpress.wordpress.com

4 thoughts on “Of Things We Remember When We Grow Older

  1. Ah, kissing cousins… at least, pretending to. Very quaint, I must say. You certainly hit directly on some of life’s difficulties. My only recommendation- if I can give those- would be to spend less time on the rhetoric and more on evoking memories which would give the reader a SENSE of the rhetoric. Essentially, show, not tell. Your writing style, reminiscent of Hemmingway’s (If he ever wrote poetry) is beautiful for its simplicity and poignancy in brevity. That type of writing, to me, isn’t as effective at rhetoric as others. It IS good, however, at making one think.

    Perchance I helped, perchance not.

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