Poem: Free Verse – “Words After Turning Thirty-One” #amwriting #poetry 


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What do we become as women at thirty-one?

Are we put out to pasture? 
Or are we doing the kicking to the curb? 

Are we like the woman of the 1960’s? 

Childless, no husband, so no value? 

Are we no longer desired? 

Are we spinsters, old-maids, bachelorettes for life? 

Or are do we fit my Uncles words:

“The most beautiful women are in their thirties.” 

Is it just the beginning, or is it the end? 

A last stretch of youth?

Or maybe, a reach for adulthood? 

Where some intelligence kicks in, 

And you’re tired of the lies, 

Meaningful nights; mornings depressed. 

So, you’ll wait for the right kind of guy, 

With the right kind of flaws;

Or maybe you live your own charmed life? 

Happy to be single, confident, relaxed.

Is it coming out of bubble gum and pink clouds? 

Finally not a girl;

But a woman who can impact change? 

Is it refinement and elegance? 

A striving for grace and eloquence? 

Is it realizing there is no Prince Charming? 

No white horse or Disney fairytale? 

Building your own life,

Do you forge it the best you can? 

Is it becoming aware even greater, 

Your teachers in childhood are growing older;

Your most lives won’t be around forever, 

So, you gather their wisdom while you can;

Spend time with them now.

Time steals loved ones; be they young or old.

Is thirty-one when you realize,

You are not impervious to dying at anytime in life? 

Severe fatigue, cancer, lupus, Thyroid troubles, 

Depression, anxiety, car accidents, the flu, MS;

Disease in some form, affects us all, 

Bodies which don’t bounce back as easily;

Requiring movement to maintain fitness,
And junk food, oh you’ll pay for it later! 

Sharing a bottle of vodka, tequila, or wine;

Drinking almost all of it, 

Can this be done anymore, and survived? 

Two glasses of wine or two beers, 

Every once in a while seems alright, 

Or face the two-day hangover regrettfully.

The biggest thing about being thirty-one, 

I’ll never get back years in my twenties, 

Lost in fatigue and mental illness, affects of meds;

They’re fond memories of genuine friends;

Futures, I see possibilities of having.

But someone wise once wrote, at the ages if 15 to 32:

Don’t worry about marriage, kids, or being grown-up;

Just enjoy and learn, explore the world. 

The wanderlust calls to me endlessly, 

A mysterious adventure waiting;

Such planning, such difficulties, such hardship; 

For a fantastic trip; I could barely walk all day, 

Or afford it; but wouldn’t it be worth it? 

To have thousands of foot prints,

To cover my pages, and see it’s okay – life goes how it does.

Thirty-one it’s only begun; an age of aspirations, 

Hopefully, inspirations to write more of;

As numerous as my days in all my years allotted. 

Passion and a life to live, anyway I know how.

Grace of God abounding; encircling profoundly, 

His child, he won’t let stumble long.

He guards with angels, and —

His forever promise of light in the dark; 

As wise JK Rowling wrote through Dumbledore:

“Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times; 

If only one will Remember, to turn on the light.” 
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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved

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Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers: A Mural for Lola


 George stared up at the ugly green water tower. He was a wiley guy for the age of seventy-six and truth be told, he hated the colour of  the water tower. George rolled his eyes at people who called the water tower festive at Christmas and said: “like hell it’s a festive colour,” to anyone who would listen.

One day George talked with his bestfriend Andy and they decided to paint the water tower. Andy was a gifted artist and George had tenacity. They got the permanents needed from the Mayor’s office. Then they hired some boys to paint the tower with white primer. When it was dry, George and Andy went up and painted the lines in for the mural in black.

Some of the people in town were furious when they saw the design. Elma (who wasn’t much for change) and her half of the town council thought the water tower should be green. What George and Andy were painting was an abomination forcing religion on people. Elma filed a petition to stop the painting.

Meanwhile, Andy found every available artist of all ages who could volunteer and they began to paint the mural with colour. When the day came to reveal the mural the entire town stared in awe at the beautiful Nativity that was painted around their water tower. 

Elma still insisted it be painted over back to green, but her appeal was denied and she passed away the next day a bitter women of sixty-eight. George and Andy were proud of what they had turned the water tower into. 

Late that night, George looked at a picture at his bedside table of a luscious brunette in a bikini in the 1960’s. She had been his wife Lola. It was for her he had undertook the plan of painting the water tower. Lola had loved the Nativity story and Christmas. 
 

Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting and Sonya of Only 100 Words for providing the prompt picture.

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.