5.29.2013

Help Me, Erica Jong

Yesterday,
my name was Snidely Green.
Today, it's Guardedly Optimistic:
Requiring External Validation.
My real name is Mama, Mama, Mama!
Tomorrow, it will be
Bellowing My Poems From That Rooftop.
My secret name
is Tender Roots
Quaking
Toward a Half-Century
and Wondering
How I Got Here.

A reprise and gentle re-write of this poem I wrote a few years back, on the advent of my forty-seventh birthday. Ahem. 

8 comments:

  1. To quote Shakespeare (poorly) ....

    A rose by any other name would smell as sweet xoxo
    eden

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  2. Ah, Tender Roots, very alive and growing by keeping half planted and hidden from the joys of naming your roles in daily life ... this sentence does not have an end, just very positive changes ...

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  3. I shall also quote Shakespeare (since I am even closer to 5-0 than you are, Gemini-sister):

    Age shall not wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety. Enjoy your remaining years in the fab forties - let the fifties take care of themselves.

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  4. I. So. Love. This. Poem. Happy Birthday, kiddo. You never looked so good!

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  5. I love this poem...
    Happy Birthday to you - fifty is the new thirty. Enjoy

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  6. Happy Birthday tender roots. It's a grander view from these upper years. And I love this poem and all the names we have.

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  7. Not too shabby for an older gal... =) LUV U!

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