Ivan Jenson

It’s hard being a nine-year-old brat
trapped in a half century old man
of letters
because the kid inside, sniffles, snickers
and pokes fun at the series
of very serious incidents that
make up the at least one upper
and downer
a day diet of moments which
compromise the bellyful
of sometimes hard to swallow
gumbo of days
and I try to get this
silly self to sit still
at the slow or mushy
romantic parts but he never grows up
and he will always
kiss a girl and make her sigh
or stub his toe
on the stepping stones
of opportunity
or disrupt a concert of Chopin
with his whippersnapper
whoopee cushion

©2012 This work is the property of the author.


Posted on October 1, 2012, in Ivan Jenson, POETRY and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. 4 Comments.

  1. More fine work from Ivan Jenson. A poem to which I can relate too well.

    Read more of his work by clicking the link:

  2. Ivan projects on bygone youthful days which he publicly whisks us across his own private persona not in a particular search for meaning in life not in picaresque Chaplin- like ironic foibles,misadventures and misdeeds of a Cervantes, rather in lines and language of a comic effective actor and sidekick Sancho Panza which makes us serious older dudes giggle who justly feel we have been there, done that, with a belly laugh of ‘Big Little Man.” Congrats!

  3. Growing up is way over-rated. As the saying goes, “You’re never too old to be immature.” Ivan, you nailed it.

  4. ah, the kid and the grown-up, a volatile combination, never satisfying but always alive

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