“Counting Coup” by Donald F Montileaux
(Originally posted June 2013)
time was
I strode into battle
on strong stallion legs
wielding armament
forged in Vesuvius
clashing and cleaving
foes leaving them
dead to their dogs
time is
I can’t even pick up
a shovel or trashcan
weak hands and limbs
suited for versified
conflicts engaged
from recumbence
with fingertip taps
time will
tell whether honor
becomes me because or
in spite of the scarring
my enemies raised on
my body and mind
or denies to me
feather and stick
Poesy plus Polemics 
Deep poem interesting in how you say it. I feel this same thing. As a younger man I ran marathons now I couldn’t run to the mail box.
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glad you could relate to it
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Reblogged this on Lenora's Culture Center and Foray into History.
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Very deep, I am still classed as young, I think about running around a tennis court like I did in my 20 somethings and now I cringed at the thought. Great words and as I said very deep.
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thanks, Barb – aging is the ultimate shared experience of we living
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It seems like yesterday when I was young…the middle seemed to go the fastest…and NOW…it is sometimes painfully slow…wanting to do more, but finding I can do less…yes, how will we be remembered…will we be remembered…you have captured it all so well!
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thanks sincerely
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Sorry it has taken me so long to drop by so as too thank you for all your ‘likes, but it has been my loss, for there is so much to feed the mind here on your site. I love the dramatic celestial picture; it adds depth to your posts. I have enjoyed my visit and in future will tag along for your wisdom.
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welcome aboard, Paul
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Reblogged this on Poesy plus Polemics.
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Wonderful, deep and profound! Beautiful, as always!
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thank you dearly, penny
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Ah, yes . . .
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so glad you understand
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We try to fight the fights we can win. The long one for life just gets harder and harder. The way you express though, it is deeply moving…as always.
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thanks sincerely
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Strong and powerful were we once, able to count coup on distress and disease and heartache. Now, aging is counting coup on us.Wonderful poem.
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thank you dearly, professor
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I can still do my 12k cross trainer workout daily at my vast years yet I fear my last vice – the accursed cigarette – will one day be my downfall. There is always some bloody hunter out there catching up with us! Great poem.
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I admire your dedication to good health, smoke notwithstanding
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Fabulous–I love “versified conflicts”. I know without knowing, in that place of the heart, that your name will always be spoken with honor.
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I like to hope so
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Beautifully structured and written. Particularly like the fingertip taps.
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I’m pleased to know that it worked for you
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