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.
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 neverContinue 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, Shooting through my brain And body and bones. Or when I see the young LivingContinue 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 a metre, like we walk a mile Wiling away their remaining days Waiting for aContinue 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 Before the withered cheeks And dragging jowls, When everything was new And you were innocentContinue 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 and asbestos alveoli. Finger in ear, a book his constant companion, weary and weather-worn, theContinue 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 art of description, and the luminous details that move the reader. When you have writtenContinue reading “The Luminous Details of Poetic Description”
I went to the mall with my aged parents to do some Christmas shopping. Note to self: find some excuse next time to avoid going with aged parents to the mall to do Christmas shopping. I don’t dislike my parents–I love them very much. All the more so because they’re allowing me to live underContinue reading “Shopping with the Olds”