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Dusty, Rusty Trophies

Updated on February 9, 2017
kenneth avery profile image

Kenneth has a taste for abstract/prose poetry as well as the comical side of life. 23-years of writing for a newspaper has served him well.

Tom Brady, quarterback, New England Patriots.
Tom Brady, quarterback, New England Patriots. | Source
 "The Bambino" Babe Ruth in  Boston Red Sox  uniform 1918
"The Bambino" Babe Ruth in Boston Red Sox uniform 1918 | Source
U.S. Professional Golfer,. Nancy Lopez
U.S. Professional Golfer,. Nancy Lopez | Source
Larry Bird, Boston Celtics, 1985 Playoff Series with Detroit Pistons.
Larry Bird, Boston Celtics, 1985 Playoff Series with Detroit Pistons. | Source

Somehow it happens. Every day. Every year it happens
As sure as seasons we know leave, go, it happens.
Silent mist on an excited moment it raises the sickle
Slowly, surely stardust mingled with blood starts to trickle.

Sudden surprise, disgust and numbed igorance stands
Taking "the" highest, the talented, and gifted of our hands.
Not caring the name, the name, losses or gains
Until a deathly reality arises and only a wrinkled memory remains.

Endless lines of little boys shirking away their childish toys
Run, scrape and fight to see "the" stars align with buoys.
But for one twinkle, one wink, and they cease to shine
And still no one knows, no one stops, the raging epitaph of time.

Their muddy, bloody steps in mud, slime and snowny days
Blot out our fiery fears, our burning tears, and kiss obscurity away.
The walk like statues of marble hewn
Not looking on fading horizons other statues have strewn.

Still, the mundane, unceasing whispering of time has said
Live in the breath of greatness and shine in the darkness of death.
Do they listen? I think not. Too busy building an humble shrine
A soon dusty shrine to house dusty, rusty trophies of grind.

The eyelash slows to bat, the useless tongue begs where I'm at
While sodden ears hear the silently ceasing praise now so flat.
Eyes are dim, space in ink so thin, what are they now?
A name, a revolving story, no worshiper now to bow.

Solitary ray of light through cold and window dark
Reminds the stars of lost glimmer, deadly stark.
A groping, wrinkled hand slips again to stand
All in all, oh gods of fame, alas you are but a mortal man.


Muhammad Ali in 1968.
Muhammad Ali in 1968. | Source

© 2017 Kenneth Avery

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    • kenneth avery profile image
      Author

      Kenneth Avery 9 months ago from Hamilton, Alabama

      Elijah,

      Thank you humbly for your comment that is

      taken for what it is. Nice.

    • kenneth avery profile image
      Author

      Kenneth Avery 9 months ago from Hamilton, Alabama

      Hi, Gypsy Rose Lee,

      I always look forward to hearing from you, but I need to take off a few days and get up to see your hubs.

      So get the coffee ready.

      Thanks again.

    • kenneth avery profile image
      Author

      Kenneth Avery 9 months ago from Hamilton, Alabama

      Hi, John,

      Thank you for your time and comment.

      You are very much appreciated.

      Write anytime.

    • kenneth avery profile image
      Author

      Kenneth Avery 9 months ago from Hamilton, Alabama

      MizBejabbers,

      Thanks so very much for your support and comment.

      I thrive on your comments and those of my great followers whom I consider friends.

      Write me anytime.

    • kenneth avery profile image
      Author

      Kenneth Avery 9 months ago from Hamilton, Alabama

      Dearest Sakina :)

      You are so sweet in leaving me such a wonderful comment.

      May God bless you richly!

    • kenneth avery profile image
      Author

      Kenneth Avery 9 months ago from Hamilton, Alabama

      Hi, RoadMonkey,

      Thank you kindly for your input. I appreciate you, your time and comments so much.

      Write me anytime.

    • faith-hope-love profile image

      John Ward 10 months ago from Richmond, British Columbia, Canada.

      Another great piece, Kenneth, I loved it. The message and wisdom in this poem lights up those touched. Our sojourn here is very short and our impact may be lost in the passage of time. I commend you on both your Talent and your understanding Wisdom. John

    • Gypsy Rose Lee profile image

      Gypsy Rose Lee 10 months ago from Riga, Latvia

      Time flashes by quickly and moments of glory come and go but the dreams are always the same and everyone wants to reach that lucky star.

    • The0NatureBoy profile image

      Elijah A Alexander Jr 10 months ago from Washington DC

      Definitely a well written poem decreed so from a fellow poet.

      Thanks!

    • MizBejabbers profile image

      MizBejabbers 10 months ago

      A very poetic way to put forth the idea of what is so important today is just dust in the wind, as the song goes. Several retired athletes have made public statements that if they'd known how dangerous their sport was, they never would have played.

    • SakinaNasir53 profile image

      Sakina Nasir 10 months ago from Kuwait

      So beautifully described and the underlying message is explained so well. I love your talent and I wish to read more of your poetry. Fantastic poem! :)

    • RoadMonkey profile image

      RoadMonkey 10 months ago

      Yes, we are here but for a little time and then the hand of time tocks on and we are gone remembered for a little while, then even our memory becomes dust.