When I am thirty

When I am thirty
I will be doing yoga
I will be so bendy
I will give Madonna a run for her money.
I will kiss my own arse, like Eddy says, from both sides.

When I am thirty
I will try not to look at younger people
And label them half-wits in my head
Even when they prove that they are.

When I am thirty
I will not talk about the good old days
And lament over all the bands that no longer play.
I will go gaga over Lady Gaga if needed
And be happy with Enrique singing about fucking.

When I am thirty
I will never be blue
And never say Please Maintain Silence
To the husbands and friends in my life
Just because I am PMSing.

When I am thirty
I will be a steely bitch
Wearing purple and pants and may be a hat
And smoking a cigarette.

When I am thirty
I will treat my mid-life crisis
With the dignity it deserves
And shag anyone who catches my fancy
And give the big O the big Os it merits.

When I am thirty
Nothing will be very different from the
twenty-nine year old person I am today.
Only I won’t cry that there’s no surprise
Happy Birthday Day party.
Because there is no one in the same time-zone
to party with.
It will all be the same and fine
But everything will suddenly be new.

And that’s all.

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About Bhumika's Boudoir

I love to laugh, and end up being a part of high drama and stormy emotion even when I don't pursue it. Being creative, and communicating with people get me going. I enjoy all the good things in life especially those that are slightly risque, and apologise little, if ever, for all that I do. Literature is a passion and so is music.
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4 Responses to When I am thirty

  1. Rheea says:

    UH-mazing. How about getting this poem published when you are thirty?

    Like

    • LOL. Rheea, it’s heavily and ironically inspired by Warning, a poem by Jenny Joseph that is part of a book called When I am an Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple. http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/warning/

      When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
      With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
      And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
      And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
      I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
      And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
      And run my stick along the public railings
      And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
      I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
      And pick flowers in other people’s gardens
      And learn to spit.

      You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
      And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
      Or only bread and pickle for a week
      And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

      But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
      And pay our rent and not swear in the street
      And set a good example for the children.
      We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

      But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
      So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
      When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

      Jenny Joseph

      And everyone I know dedicates Warning to me because I like purple. And I thought it’s about time I had my own version.

      Like

  2. Marvin Grey says:

    Ooww! Cool poem. Can I still talk like this? I am way past thirty and still struggling to touch my toes.

    Thoroughly enjoyed the verses :o)

    Like

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