Old? A poem.
I do not feel The age of oldInside outI am fit and boldEveryone alwaysTells me soSo I just don’t feelThe age of old For more poetry, click here. Continue reading Old? A poem.
I do not feel The age of oldInside outI am fit and boldEveryone alwaysTells me soSo I just don’t feelThe age of old For more poetry, click here. Continue reading Old? A poem.
The merciless tide Pulls you deepYou may curseIts indomitable gripBut to no availThe ancient current The rip that dragsAnd fetters youCasts you ontoUnknown shoresWhere every soul’sJourney ends For more poetry, click here. Continue reading The Merciless Tide. A poem.
Time is short It stands in line, dwarfed by all the other narcissistic concepts All wanting a piece of our mind Another piece of the pie A little bit more of our Time is Wondering when it will have its Time in the sun And yet Time flies When you’re having fun And there’s never enough Time is Needed to do all the things Needed to be done My time is so important But not as much as yours Time is Something we all want more of But even when we have it We just fritter it away As if … Continue reading Time is. A poem.
Sometimes, I feel old. I feel the weight of years And the stress and strain Of injuries and tears That make it hard to lift Myself from bed. It hits me, awkwardly, When I’m lifting a box Or philosophising alone, … Continue reading Sometimes. A poem.
I wonder what the old ones think When they see young eyes upon the brink Who tell them what they think they know Ignoring the wisdom of their growth Do they roll their eyes, nod and smile Do they walk … Continue reading Old Ones. A poem.
Cranky at the portents: The breeze, it smells of winter, Even though the summer Has settled in Like a squatter, rent-free, Taking advantage Of your misdemeanours. Have your eyes aged With the rest? Or are you seeing as you did … Continue reading Aged. A poem.
I remember my father, as he is now and then, anchored to that fading chair with fading hairline and fading eyes, the absence of smoke from unfiltered cigarettes, not so heavy in the air. Less the cough from tar-filled lungs … Continue reading Father. A poem.
Exercise: Poet Ezra Pound described the “luminous details” that reveal and transmit an image swiftly and deeply. Find an image that resonates with you. Write a poem about this object in no more than 10 lines, keeping in mind the … Continue reading The Luminous Details of Poetic Description
via Perspective. Just a link to an earlier blog of mine about life and its vagaries. Thought you might like it. Cheers Steve 🙂 Continue reading Another take on perspective…