of a meltdown.
They are testing
my mettle,
warping my mind.
They are poking
and prodding,
and positing inanities.
I am old.
This they know.
They count on it.
They think I am soft.
They think their nimbleness
will thwart my experience.
They clam up
when they should
be speaking.
They go on too long,
when they know
I must rejoin the talk.
They don't bring
what they must
when they must.
They smile when
I think they should frown,
and the other way 'round.
They have something
planned for me;
I know it.
Somewhere in this town,
plans for my demise
are going down.
You give them too much credit, my friend. They're idiots whose only agenda is to slack. They aren't planning your demise; that would require effort.
ReplyDeleteAwesome verse! One of your best!
Reminds me of the REM strong "Strange."
Greta nailed it: "There's something going on that's not quite right."
ReplyDeleteI know that feeling, too, Richard. (I refuse to call you Dick Tingle, you naughty naughty man.)
But my students sometimes APPEAR to be working in concert with each other to tweak a class, ruin it, drive me crazy at the same time.
But I trust that Greta is right (she always is!), and they're just bouncing around like steel balls in a pinball machine, random and hard headed.
That last stanza is breathtaking, Sir Tingle!
ReplyDeleteThe snowflakes haven't yet learned that youth and enthusiasm will always lose to old age and treachery.
ReplyDeleteLove it. I really love the occasional and unexpected rhymes. Oh and the occasional alliteration like poking, prodding and posting.
ReplyDeleteSubtle genius. But how could it not be subtle from a guy named Dick Tingle.
Stay classy!
I love your contributions, Dick!!!
ReplyDeleteBrilliant! But I agree with Greta and Darla; the chances are that they're thinking about something else entirely, most likely something piped in on their earbuds and/or texted by their friends. Plotting our demise would require paying attention to us and, well, if you think they're doing that, you haven't been reading this page.
ReplyDelete