Myself.

The swing I sat on when I was five
Gave me the greatest pleasure
I knew happiness as I swung
Thinking life was leisure
And the wind rushing against my face
Promised that it would last
Now I smile ruefully
When I remember that swing from my past.

Life is cruel just as it is kind,
And to be kind it needs to be cruel;
Love, happiness, honour and beauty
Are trapped in this unceasing duel.
I used to love with gay abandon,
Now caution dictates my every move
In matters of life
In matters of love.

I still wear my heart on my sleeve,
Though I try harder to shield it,
I have sharpened my brain with experience,
And I have learnt to wield it.
Years have passed and are passing still,
I have lost those I loved and some have lost me,
I have been touched and have been bruised,
Each caress and weal I have stored in memory.

You see a part of me now,
Perhaps I shall let you see the other sides of me,
Perhaps you’ll see the boy, with the wind on that swing,
Perhaps the present or some future destiny;
Through all of your judgement know this:
Disregarding every shred of vanity,
You never did, never will or hope to know,
Another man quite like me.

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3 thoughts on “Myself.

  1. Ahh, beautiful poem. I like the ending lines and I like the overall sense of life you project in it. Also, good use of rhymes: it is quite a difficult feat to write convincingly mature poetry in rhymes.

  2. I am glad you liked it, Ergo. Though I must tell you that this was just me wanting to construct something for those countless “about me” questions in networking profiles that one comes across inadvertently. So this happens to be the first and only draft of this poem. *sheepish smile* Thanks for dropping by my blog. 🙂

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