The Changing Face of Rebellion

Not so many years ago
I revelled in rebellion,
Pissed on seniors
In sportsmobiles.
Comfortable bellies on
Wheels. Waistcoat
Fillers. Surreptitious
Pint spillers.

But now I sit and scoff
At youth and all its
Awkward agonising
Over lack of truth.

Merrily I mow the lawn
And curse because I
Can't get my wellies on.
And my wife orders me
To buy a larger pair.
And I cry 'No!' and
She groans and I ignore
Her as I turn the telly on
And I revel in my rebellion.


The overweight poet relaxes in front of the TV, his poetry writing days long behind him
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Poem Study Notes:


The poet recalls a time, at the tender age of twenty-seven, when he was horrified to find out that the man he had been sitting opposite in the office and getting along quite well with, was thirty-one years of age. It had never occurred to the poet before that he would ever approach middle-age himself... and somehow, by association, this was the moment that the realisation all came crashing down. 3 months later he was in the doctor's surgery with depression, 6 months later he had a girlfriend, 1 year later he started wearing clothes from Marks and Spencers...