Spend money, my child

[PrinceMyshkin]

Spend money, my child,
and grow strong,
eat moderately
but well, exercise
and think, as much as you can,
with clarity.

Spend money, my child,
and grow wise
studying the words and work
of those whose light
held back the ever-encroaching dark.

Spend money, my child,
and love,
for love is the only coin
that returns
even as it leaves the hand
that offers it.

Spend money, my child,
and age,
for spending and loving and aging
and death
is the duty of all of us

and the privilege of some

[CdnReader]

Spend money, my child,
and age,
for spending and loving and aging
and death
is the duty of all of us


I love this stanza, Jer. Thank you.

[CathyEarnshaw]

This is very insightful, especially these two stanzas:





Spend money, my child,
and love,
for love is the only coin
that returns
even as it leaves the hand
that offers it.

Spend money, my child,
and age,
for spending and loving and aging
and death
is the duty of all of us

and the privilege of some


The last line is really strong, enforces the significance.

[goldenrod]

I am afraid that the only words retained by my children pertaining to that wise polemic would be:

"Spend money, my child!";(


goldenrod.

[paperleaves]

"Spend money, my child,
and love,
for love is the only coin
that returns
even as it leaves the hand
that offers it.
"
How beautifully and intricately you state this. This is such a pleasing stanza, it really caught my eye :)

[firefangled]

I will read this to my daughter tonight.

And to myself, when everyone else is asleep...I will read, over and over, this





and the privilege of some

[PrinceMyshkin]

I will read this to my daughter tonight.

And to myself, when everyone else is asleep...I will read, over and over, this

there is probably a special place in heaven for those who 'get' one's orphan lines! Maybe you were not the only one to see that the entire 'point' of the poem was in the inversion of those last two lines. Frankly, I was a bit ambivalent about this poem because of the cloak I'd assumed of a 'wise' elder... I fight as hard as I can against my inner Rabbi, schlepping his beaten-up old soap-box after him but the old bugger with his creaky voice got away from me here.

In expiation I offer the following:


A woman shook her son awake one Saturday morning:

"Get up! It's time for you to go to the synagogue."

"I'm not going to go," he said, "and I'll give you two reasons: One, they don't like me and two, I don't like them!"

"And I'll give you two reasons," his mother replied: "One, you're forty-five years old, and two, you're the Rabbi!"

[firefangled]

there is probably a special place in heaven for those who 'get' one's orphan lines! Maybe you were not the only one to see that the entire 'point' of the poem was in the inversion of those last two lines. Frankly, I was a bit ambivalent about this poem because of the cloak I'd assumed of a 'wise' elder... I fight as hard as I can against my inner Rabbi, schlepping his beaten-up old soap-box after him but the old bugger with his creaky voice got away from me here.

In expiation I offer the following:


A woman shook her son awake one Saturday morning:

"Get up! It's time for you to go to the synagogue."

"I'm not going to go," he said, "and I'll give you two reasons: One, they don't like me and two, I don't like them!"

"And I'll give you two reasons," his mother replied: "One, you're forty-five years old, and two, you're the Rabbi!"


Very funny.

You hang on to that old Rabbi and let him speak, but watch your step on that ragged, corner-worn pulpit. Your other inner-persona, remember, is a self-proclaimed old geezer.

[Poetess]

I usually respond to poems by poems. To this one, I think it is rude to be done. I like your art, I like your advice for childhood. And I like it more when they heed it.






Spend money, my child,
and age,
for spending and loving and aging
and death
is the duty of all of us

and the privilege of some





Peculiar stanza, a realistic one.