Yellow crop top
skin tone leggings
a bare midriff
good as bare bum
but topped with
a biker’s leather
black bomber jacket
Cargo pants and
an old guy shirt
North Face jacket
don’t he know that’s
drug dealer gear
– sitting perving…
What you looking
at you old fart?
I’m sorry!
Did I drop one?
No I said
you are one!
– An – Old – Fart!
And stop perving!
A cool, grey cat
may look at a queen…
What does that
even mean?
In America
New York, Harlem
the Golden Age
of the black man
A cool grey cat
– an old white man…
may look at a
woman in the
prime of youth
Did I say you
could look at me
you old white man?
Everything
about you says
“Just look at me!”
Yes but not you!
Why would I want
you to look at
me – old fool!
They do say
“Only a fool
wishes to be
young again…”
but you make me
remember young
– I was young once
like you – you know?
I suppose but
just don’t look at
me – it ain’t for you
I’m all dressed up!
How old are you
Mister-talk-like
-a-dictionary?
Turned seventy
just last month
and can’t help but
see you when you
pace up and down
in front of me!
Where should I look?
True nuff, dude
– can’t stand waiting
what time’s this bus
coming anyway?
Still ten minutes
– could take the weight
off and sit down…
If the wind changes
you’re stuck with that frown…
Them metal seats
are far too cold
– any more advice
Mr Seventy
My mother would
have said you’ld catch
a cold – bare bellied…
And how old’s she
when she’s at home
– like you – cant mind
her own bus’ness!
A hundred and five
were she still alive…
Sorry mate I
didn’t think
I mean…
my mother
says the same…
Mothers! Who’d have ‘em?
You’re funny Mister!
It’s mothers have you!
Where you off to
anyway, bingo!
Keighley Poets Group
at the library
and what about you
– boyfriend? Girl’s night out?
Meeting the girls
maybe to score
not that it’s any
of yours “old fart”
If only I was
fifty younger…
I might even be
in with a shout
I could dance then
shake it all about…
In your dreams mate
too posh for me
too many long words
you gonna write
a poem about me
am I your muse?
And have the world
call me a perve
and not just you?
You are a sight
for sore eyes it’s
true though – but I
didn’t mean to
upset you – it’s
hard not to see
beauty when it’s
there to be seen…
True nuff – I can’t
expect that only
fit young dudes will
see me and not
be seen as well
by “Cool grey cats”…
no Harry Potter
selective cloak of
invisibility…
Oh look! The bus!
It has been nice
to talk to you
and come to see
the other’s view
untangle all the
mixed messages
which age and looks
can scramble up
I hope you have
a good night out!
You too Mr Poet
– knock ‘em dead at
your poetry slam
and you can write
one ‘bout me too
– if you want to…
© Andrew Wilson, 2025
I should first say that this conversation is an act of imagination lol! I have started attending a poetry group at my local library (whose construction, like many in England, was funded by Andrew Carnegie – an arch capitalist who made obscene amounts of money and ameliorated his conscience by spreading literacy through libraries) – the group are mainly people who have no online presence but only meet IRL – in the real world (an expression only used by those in the digital world!)
There is a topic chosen for each meeting and the one upcoming next Tuesday, is “Mixed Messages” and I wrote this poem for the meeting.
I have been absent from my usual online haunt – dVerse Poets Pub for the last month as I am participating in the A to Z Challenge and each post takes a lot of research, illustrating and writing which you can find, starting here. However, I thought this poem might fit Dora’s prompt in Poetics but missed the deadline and so I am posting it for the Open Link Night…