Inevitable

[Jerrybaldy]

I will fade in time
like the Christmas train set.
The line becomes too familiar,
the thrill fades with the days.
Some days I no longer remember
exactly how it felt.
I am the old man who hasn’t noticed
his reflection.
I do not recognise me
in who you say I am
I do not know the me, that others say they see.
It makes me want to be alone.
Alone I will make tea,
just for me.
In time the curtains will hang shut
quite naturally.
I will cultivate webs
and thumb old photographs,
Prittstick newspaper headlines to these walls,
roll on the lawn at dawn
suck the dew from the grass.
I will watch the washing tumble
through its porthole,
watch morning television
and commuters leaving the street.
Raid the biscuit barrel for creams,
sink German boats in the bath,
hide from myself
beneath the stairs,
put my head in the oven and laugh,
stab imaginary strangers in the dark,
sit alone in the shower
in warm and steady rain,
sleep my sleep beneath the quilt ,
listen to hail on the pane.
Stay home
until brambles grow all around
and a million thorns
will let me be.
I will cut out Santa from Christmas cards,
remember the thrill of the train set
and the way that you felt about me.

[MystyrMystyry]

Yep.

It reminds me of the old couple on my growing up street, more specifically how fast he faded after she croaked. An immaculate polished garden turned to weeds seemingly overnight, the public indication that for him his spark was over.

Something tells me your spark fires from within, Jolly Bud.

[BookBeauty]

There's something about your poetry that I find comforting, soothing even. No matter what the subject is. The descriptions of the mundane become like little photographs that we look through on a rainy day. Thanks for writing. :)

[Haunted]

Is this the same "Inevitable" as your title? The poem is structured like a kiddie train set, a regression, and coming full circle towards the end. The nostalgia is moving and self resignation even more affecting, all building up to the final heartbreak. I feel it in my core but as sad as it makes me feel, this is my new Jerry favorite.

[Apostrophe]

My favorite line: sink German boats in the bath. Glorious, that.

[Delta40]

And I'm never going to meet you (spits chips big time). Another compelling masterpiece

[PrinceMyshkin]

Comes across like a freshly assembled train set, heading out on its first turn round the tracks!

[AuntShecky]

It's always a pleasure to read your stuff, Jerry.

Again, this one "works" because the concrete imagery--the "details" help unify
the impression of nostalgic melancholy this piece seems to make. I wonder if you would mind if I'd make just a couple of suggestions. The opening line is great, and so is the comparison with the Christmas train set; however, the idea of fading works better in the first line of the motif than it does in the second (the train set itself doesn't "fade" but maybe rusts or breaks apart due to neglect.) How about clarifying it with something like: "The memory of me will fade, just like the train set. . ." You could choose a synonym for this line:
the thrill fades with the days so that "fades" won't be appearing too often in nearby lines.

Many of us folks here on the opposite side of the Big Pond make a common mistake in our reluctance to use the word "me." (Part of this arises from overcorrection from our mothers insisting that we say "Can Johnny and I go?" instead of "Me and Johnny.") As a result, Yanks are skittish about using the word "me" at all-- even when it's the appropriate objective case. As a result we get constructions like "My brother and myself talked to the cop. . ." You don't make that mistake, but in this line:

I do not recognise me
you really do need the reflexive form--"myself"

I do not know the me, that others say they see.
Would you try: "I do not know the "me" (use quotation marks, but no comma) that others say they see."
OR--
"I do not know the man whom others say they see"

The "homely" details in the rest of the lines underscore the edgy emotion shot through this piece which, overall, has much merit. Of course, that famous "voice" of yours still bellows strongly.

Auntie