We are the Grey Men

[MidlifeCrisis]

We are the Grey Men

We hide in plain sight.
We are Everyman. We are no man.
Unnoticed or soon forgotten.

We are old. We are young.
We are thin. We are big-boned.
We are pale. We are dark-skinned.
All we have in common is our second life.

Behind the doors, behind the curtains, we come alive.
The sights we have seen!
Soft curves, dark, golden, milky white,
Sometimes adorned with swirls of graphic ink.
Hair black, blonde, rainbow-coloured,
Visitors from distant shores – we have seen them all.

We have known the touch of clever hands,
Kisses from soft lips, in places seldom kissed.
For a time we are transported,
A little closer to heaven or hell.
Afterwards we slip into the street,
Deadpan, our smiles concealed within.

We hide in plain sight.
We are Everyman. We are no man.
Unnoticed or soon forgotten.

But we have had our day in the sun.


MLC

[RoddyMcCorley]

I’m impressed.
Thanks

[SteveB]

Candidate for Poet Laureate, unquestionably.

[IrishSarahBarra]

Ah very cool ����

I will follow. Written in notes so idk what it’ll look like and I don’t know how to write a poem so it’s not one.


The Light is Finite

We are the subject of light or dark depending on who you are and who you perceive us to be.
We are all women and too often no woman.

Aged, youthful, svelt, stout, struggling, unstruggling, intelligence, none. Choice or none.
Education or none, personality or none. Pretty or not. Service.
When we are from. How many languages we speak. A list of things perceived as attractive or unattractive.

The ever moulding into something attractive. The sometimes fear to share what is common between us
or what is real lest it be weak or unattractive now or that it might hunt us later.

The need to be strong and attractive but not hard so that we may be the subject of light not dark.
Attract the light not the dark.

It sometimes feels like there’s not enough light to go around, that the light is finite and divided.
Certain, one’s sliver depends on an ability to mould.

Sometimes, on an ability to mask if not everything then the energy and time spent moulding
…and time spent massaging and fixing the cracks on one’s mask.

Both these things, easier for some. Maybe not even thought of by the few. But, who knows?
It’s hard to truly see anything in it’s real light when the seeing of it might cause the illumination to change.
However, we know we share something, we can feel so much, we all speak that language too.

Such things mentioned are harder for some and easier for others. Pointless is expecting another to do better, to work harder or be more
…if the light is finite.
For, if they could be everything you want them to be and the light is still finite - where would the light go?

Being grateful for a sliver when you have it and quiet about others.
Being compassionate for those who don’t have it right now. If the light is finite.

If the light is finite, having a sliver depends on your gifts, yes, and also on chance.
But if the light is finite, it depends more on someone else not having it.
You are built on them, be quiet.


​SB

[beautyaddict]

Two excellent compositions well done

Food for thought , for the rest of my day I will consider a sliver and a grey

Thank you both

[Forceuser]

There once was a man from Kilkenny
Who one night met a lady named Jenny
For her he was keen
But she wasnt green
So with a smile he spent every penny

[MidlifeCrisis]

Ah very cool ����

I will follow. Written in notes so idk what it’ll look like and I don’t know how to write a poem so it’s not one.


The Light is Finite

We are the subject of light or dark depending on who you are and who you perceive us to be.
We are all women and too often no woman.

Aged, youthful, svelt, stout, struggling, unstruggling, intelligence, none. Choice or none.
Education or none, personality or none. Pretty or not. Service.
When we are from. How many languages we speak. A list of things perceived as attractive or unattractive.

The ever moulding into something attractive. The sometimes fear to share what is common between us
or what is real lest it be weak or unattractive now or that it might hunt us later.

The need to be strong and attractive but not hard so that we may be the subject of light not dark.
Attract the light not the dark.

It sometimes feels like there’s not enough light to go around, that the light is finite and divided.
Certain, one’s sliver depends on an ability to mould.

Sometimes, on an ability to mask if not everything then the energy and time spent moulding
…and time spent massaging and fixing the cracks on one’s mask.

Both these things, easier for some. Maybe not even thought of by the few. But, who knows?
It’s hard to truly see anything in it’s real light when the seeing of it might cause the illumination to change.
However, we know we share something, we can feel so much, we all speak that language too.

Such things mentioned are harder for some and easier for others. Pointless is expecting another to do better, to work harder or be more
…if the light is finite.
For, if they could be everything you want them to be and the light is still finite - where would the light go?

Being grateful for a sliver when you have it and quiet about others.
Being compassionate for those who don’t have it right now. If the light is finite.

If the light is finite, having a sliver depends on your gifts, yes, and also on chance.
But if the light is finite, it depends more on someone else not having it.
You are built on them, be quiet.


​SB

Amazing! You put this together so quickly! Mine had been an idea rattling around for a week or two. x

[jekyl69]

In the city's pulse, where secrets breed,
A man walks silent, his heart a need.
In shadows cast, a double life unfolds,
Escorts' embrace, a clandestine tale told.

Each step, a rhythm of forbidden desire,
In the veil of night, his soul set afire.
A secret world, where pleasure and pain,
Entwine in whispers, a clandestine refrain.

Behind closed doors, a thrilling game,
In the hush of secrets, he finds no shame.
A dance of shadows, a covert affair,
In the silent echoes, he takes great care.

His favorite escort, a whispered dream,
In the moonlit corners, where shadows beam.
Her laughter echoes in his quiet mind,
A clandestine connection, hard to find.

In daylight's gaze, a mask he wears,
A double life, a symphony of affairs.
The thrill he seeks in a lover's touch,
Yet in the daylight, the secret does clutch.

But with every secret, a price to pay,
In the light of day, shadows betray.
The heartache grows, a silent plea,
In the secret chambers of his mystery.

He longs for love, to break the spell,
Yet, in the shadows, he dwells so well.
A man divided, in the city's throng,
In the silence, he hums a lonely song.

Escorts' company, a clandestine thrill,
In the secret dance, he finds respite still.
Yet, in the stillness of the lonely night,
Regret and heartache take their flight.

[ladiesman217]

There once was a man from Kilkenny
Who one night met a lady named Jenny
For her he was keen
But she wasnt green
So with a smile he spent every penny

There once was an old fart called Forceuser
Who each night went on the boozer
He was up to foul play
All night he would pay
Cos he wrecked his old battlecruiser

[64west]

We are the Grey Men

We hide in plain sight.
We are Everyman. We are no man.
Unnoticed or soon forgotten.

We are old. We are young.
We are thin. We are big-boned.
We are pale. We are dark-skinned.
All we have in common is our second life.

Behind the doors, behind the curtains, we come alive.
The sights we have seen!
Soft curves, dark, golden, milky white,
Sometimes adorned with swirls of graphic ink.
Hair black, blonde, rainbow-coloured,
Visitors from distant shores – we have seen them all.

We have known the touch of clever hands,
Kisses from soft lips, in places seldom kissed.
For a time we are transported,
A little closer to heaven or hell.
Afterwards we slip into the street,
Deadpan, our smiles concealed within.

We hide in plain sight.
We are Everyman. We are no man.
Unnoticed or soon forgotten.

But we have had our day in the sun.


MLC