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Click hereYoung men of a certain age
are putty in my hands.
My look or glance or fluttering finger
wave leaves them stuttering
nonsense off their tongues,
when all those young Lotharios
likely want, is to flutter a tongue
over my senses.
Then, just next door to midnight,
the streamers flew and confetti
caught my curls.
By the time the horns blew
and champagne flowed
most of the putty boys
had slowly melted away
and I was left
with merely three to kiss me.
The wistful notes of Auld Lang Syne
went dancing out to friends
just newly gone from the living ether.
I sang it for those who passed
and who I'll long remember.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot?
In my heart, they live forever.
After the glitter of a gala night
what's left but to sweep it away?
The foil that shone so bright,
the coloured cellophane -- a filter
on a too-white light; all so much
dross in the hung-over fog
of a new year's dawn.
It's an older poem, but a great one. You're very expressive in mood showing this, so well is it I can really picture this poem playing out. It reveals it's self like viewing it through a haze to Kodachrome. Memory perfect, wistful.
Do they know what they missed? Lucky three were champagne kissed!
Nice portrayal of meloncholia in the midst of glitter; well done, champagne1982!
they grow up to be doormats...
if I could be serious for a change, you lost me on the first four lines. I realize the introduction of the cliche serves its purpose well with the introduction of "putty boys". I point this out, because there is some very good stuff here, but at first glance nothing holds you, it was the name attached that brought me back.
I love how you paint your pictures. Your mood pics are the absolute best. This is a great example, who cares where the putty boys went, they missed out on you, right?
really enjoyed this one :)
and you really had me with the first two stanzas, but where did the putty boys go after that? :)