As part of my morning routine I checked my " memories " page on Facebook. It's always interesting to see what I was thinking about a year ago. I do see common threads and that's a good thing. At least I'm not erratic. Of course some would say I'm inflexible, unchanging and stubborn. That's another way of looking at it. No matter, I'll just continue on.
This morning as I looked at that page a poem I had written was there. It was posted four years ago. I read it over again and the same thoughts I had when composing that piece came back. I'm going to say that's a good thing. Then I thought maybe I should post it again, here, and offer an explanation of just what I was thinking about. So, not having much else to say this morning I'll give that a shot.
Ink
Faded Tattoo's
Once new and bright
Time and age
Take their toll
They begin to fade from sight
When new they made a statement
Confident and Bold
Now the conversations changes
The stories go untold
Wrinkled skin
Thinning hair
Ink colors the soul
Memories fading
Shuffling feet
Confident and bold
Old men
Faded tattoos
The things that have been
Remaining still
Just
Distant and Dim.
I think my poems are pretty much straightforward and obvious in their meaning. There aren't any hidden meanings, no deep thoughts or secrets in them. I do enjoy the rhyme when it works out. Yes, they are amateurish and for good reason, I'm an amateur. Still they are my thought expressed as best I can and I hope others enjoy them. When I wrote this piece I was thinking about my youth. And by youth I mean before I was forty. I got my own tattoos when I was in the Navy, no surprise there. I got my first one to show others I was a man that could make his own decisions. Yes, a man among men boldly getting a tattoo! This was in a time when tattoos weren't quite as mainstream as they are today. Back then it was mostly sailors and bikers getting tattoos. We didn't yet call that being inked, that phrase would come later on. I would get just two more tattoos, though you could hardly classify them as such, as they are just my wifes' name. But that first one, the one I got in some shady tattoo parlor in Rotterdam Holland, I got to make a statement. Yes it was fueled by alcohol and testosterone. In review I have to laugh as I selected a flower, for reasons I can't explain. It has a banner where you would put a loved ones name, I had the word love written there. Well, I guess the alcohol was speaking louder than the testosterone. My statement? And isn't that what getting a tattoo is all about, was simply, I can do that. It meant nothing more than that. My selection was a display of machismo! I'm man enough to get a flower tattooed on my arm and I dare you say to anything about that. No one ever did. A hollow victory celebrated on my arm for eternity. A story that goes untold. It's the story of being young, being bold, and being, well human.
Now I don't regret ever having gotten that tattoo. It hasn't effected my life in anyway whatsoever. No stigma has haunted me. Well a flower with the word love in it isn't very edgy. I'm glad I didn't get the popular selectins at that time. I saw many daggers with dripping blood proclaiming for God and Country. Snakes, cobwebs and chains around the wrist were all the rage. Statements being made? It was more like going with the crowd in my eyes. I wanted to be with the crowd but on a different path. I'm still that way to this day. That is what remains, just distant and dim.
That is what I am trying to convey with that poem. I'm trying to explain time. The things we believe in our youth, the choices we make, stay with us forever. Yes they will become distant and dim but they remain. We no longer tell those stories, preferring to keep them hidden from the present. Those lessons are the INK that colors our soul.
Tattoos are the things that people can see, a sort of advertisement. The thing is the product changes over time, or at least it should anyway, but the tattoos remain. Yes, that's what your mother was talking about when she was shocked to see that tattoo. What statement are you making? Probably nothing more than a whim at the moment, a sentiment or expression. Only you really understand that. It's like my flower. What does that say to me? It's just a reminder, nothing more. A reminder of youth and youthful emotions. A bold decision? Hardly. Today it is just what remains of a day gone by in a foreign land in a past life a long time ago.
This morning as I looked at that page a poem I had written was there. It was posted four years ago. I read it over again and the same thoughts I had when composing that piece came back. I'm going to say that's a good thing. Then I thought maybe I should post it again, here, and offer an explanation of just what I was thinking about. So, not having much else to say this morning I'll give that a shot.
Ink
Faded Tattoo's
Once new and bright
Time and age
Take their toll
They begin to fade from sight
When new they made a statement
Confident and Bold
Now the conversations changes
The stories go untold
Wrinkled skin
Thinning hair
Ink colors the soul
Memories fading
Shuffling feet
Confident and bold
Old men
Faded tattoos
The things that have been
Remaining still
Just
Distant and Dim.
I think my poems are pretty much straightforward and obvious in their meaning. There aren't any hidden meanings, no deep thoughts or secrets in them. I do enjoy the rhyme when it works out. Yes, they are amateurish and for good reason, I'm an amateur. Still they are my thought expressed as best I can and I hope others enjoy them. When I wrote this piece I was thinking about my youth. And by youth I mean before I was forty. I got my own tattoos when I was in the Navy, no surprise there. I got my first one to show others I was a man that could make his own decisions. Yes, a man among men boldly getting a tattoo! This was in a time when tattoos weren't quite as mainstream as they are today. Back then it was mostly sailors and bikers getting tattoos. We didn't yet call that being inked, that phrase would come later on. I would get just two more tattoos, though you could hardly classify them as such, as they are just my wifes' name. But that first one, the one I got in some shady tattoo parlor in Rotterdam Holland, I got to make a statement. Yes it was fueled by alcohol and testosterone. In review I have to laugh as I selected a flower, for reasons I can't explain. It has a banner where you would put a loved ones name, I had the word love written there. Well, I guess the alcohol was speaking louder than the testosterone. My statement? And isn't that what getting a tattoo is all about, was simply, I can do that. It meant nothing more than that. My selection was a display of machismo! I'm man enough to get a flower tattooed on my arm and I dare you say to anything about that. No one ever did. A hollow victory celebrated on my arm for eternity. A story that goes untold. It's the story of being young, being bold, and being, well human.
Now I don't regret ever having gotten that tattoo. It hasn't effected my life in anyway whatsoever. No stigma has haunted me. Well a flower with the word love in it isn't very edgy. I'm glad I didn't get the popular selectins at that time. I saw many daggers with dripping blood proclaiming for God and Country. Snakes, cobwebs and chains around the wrist were all the rage. Statements being made? It was more like going with the crowd in my eyes. I wanted to be with the crowd but on a different path. I'm still that way to this day. That is what remains, just distant and dim.
That is what I am trying to convey with that poem. I'm trying to explain time. The things we believe in our youth, the choices we make, stay with us forever. Yes they will become distant and dim but they remain. We no longer tell those stories, preferring to keep them hidden from the present. Those lessons are the INK that colors our soul.
Tattoos are the things that people can see, a sort of advertisement. The thing is the product changes over time, or at least it should anyway, but the tattoos remain. Yes, that's what your mother was talking about when she was shocked to see that tattoo. What statement are you making? Probably nothing more than a whim at the moment, a sentiment or expression. Only you really understand that. It's like my flower. What does that say to me? It's just a reminder, nothing more. A reminder of youth and youthful emotions. A bold decision? Hardly. Today it is just what remains of a day gone by in a foreign land in a past life a long time ago.
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