Gnarled

Espaliered fruit tree at the EcoTrust Building.

Chantler63 Shakespeare Challenge and National Poetry Writing Month
Words invented by Shakespeare, Day 13: gnarled


NOVEL NEWS.
People have been asking me how long my novel is, or how much I've written.
Today I added up the completed sections and almost fell off my chair.
Close to five hundred pages written! And at least fifty more to write, I reckon.
So if you're wondering (as I was), why the gnarly editing was taking so long,
that's why.

REGRETS.
I would so love to be spending more time with your blips.
I can barely get my own done these days, even with cheating! (See below.)
I am vastly appreciative of every visit and comment.
I would love to be able to return them all.
Just know that I think you're terrific. I often leave anonymous stars.
I hope that can be enough for now.
Stars and hearts to you.


POEM OF THE DAY.
I'm cheating again. You could too if you had hundreds of them stashed away. This is an excerpt from a rather long 2003 poem on the experience of being among the Gnarled Ones. Possibly inspired by a series of R.B. Kitaj paintings titled 'Bad Eyes,' 'Bad Knee,' and so on.

I AM OFFICIALLY OLD

I am officially old,
and I often don’t do what I’m told,
but it’s not that I’m rude
with a bad attitude.
“You’ll just have to talk louder,” I scold.

My head is officially bare,
though I groom what is left of my hair.
Without curling or teasing
I aim for what’s pleasing
by combing the little that’s there.

My skin is officially creased
like the hide of a wrinkly beast,
and without special knowledge in
Botox or collagen,
I look just short of deceased.

I’m officially known as a gimp,
since I walk with a definite limp.
Though my legs surely ought to
be equal, one’s shorter,
and thus I’m half curve and half crimp.

I am officially curt,
for I’ll tell you at length where I hurt
but if your talk is boring
and sets me to snoring,
I’ll leave you and go get dessert.