The Ancients

THE ANCIENTS

My career began with an entrechat huit.
Now I’m proud if I can touch my feet,
Meanwhile schoolfriend Jim
Who was once a neuro-physicist

Is gracile in each limb, a contortionist
Who can do a U-turn through a toilet-seat,
Wriggle through a gutless racquet.
Now I call that neat.

Gwendy lifts a record weight
At sixty-five, while battling to stay alive.
Hugo’s kidney does him proud.
And as he reads his poems aloud

We sense we are the avant-garde
Still writing well, still training hard.

About anthonyhowelljournal

Poet, essayist, dancer, performance artist....
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to The Ancients

  1. niamh ferguson says:

    Yes, nothing wrong with being an ancient when you can write like this Anthony.

    Hope you’re well.

    Keep meaning to come up and do some tangoing with you.

    When do you hold classes these days?

    Love to you,

    n.x.

    ________________________________

    Liked by 1 person

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