I’m Not a Tums Kind of Guy

Let’s try something I’ve not done before. A poem. A bit of whimsy, but perhaps it reveals a bit of insight into me. WARNING: I am not a poet, so don’t expect too much. Here goes.

*****

I’M NOT A TUMS KIND OF GUY

I’m not a Tums kind of guy.

The belly may be round

And oft overstuffed,

But I’ve never been a Tums kind of guy.

Yet as the years go by

And the hair turns gray

(please, no snickers now),

Maybe I’m not the same kind of guy.

The knees start to go

And the first thing you know,

The joints say click and clack.

Definitely not the same kind of guy.

As things begin to sag,

My clothes become a bag

And worse … I don’t even care.

More changes to my kind of guy.

A shock sets me back

As the mirror reveals

How profound the changes have been.

What kind of a guy am I now?

Wind has gone chasing after stamina,

Which took off in search of energy.

Ambition has vanished, but I cannot say where.

Am I even a guy at all?

With gurgles and groans my stomach

Confirms what I crave no longer craves me.

What was tripe to my tongue is now daily fare.

Maybe I am a Tums kind of guy.

*****

Hope that wasn’t too painful. Thanks for sticking with it. Well, that’s out of my system now. Next week we can return to something more in my line. I usually solicit comments at this point … but this time, I’m not so sure.

New Posts are published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.