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Age Angst Poems | Age Poems About Angst

These Age Angst poems are examples of Age poems about Angst. These are the best examples of Age Angst poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Rhyme | |

Out of the Sun

              Stayed 
             in the sun 
              to long
               today
 The skin became the bark of a tree
 the soul turning to brittle scars
 for uncaring worlds to see.
             my face
            is a pile of 
           old owl bones
sewn into banks of midnight creeks...
even the plump, over ripened ones 
no longer look at me...
but if their car was desert flat,
their oil grim reaper black
they'd paint a wormy, water colored  smile...
slide it through my barbed wired heart
so long as I could spin the jack...
so I spin it until their potholes turn to satin-
               Stayed 
              in the sun
               to long
                today
the mind has smoothed over 
like pebbles in Saturn rings..
a forgotten spice in the conversation of life
an hour later the word snuggles up to me
               laughingly.

Tomorrow or forever( which ever comes first),
I'll stay wrapped inside
till my skin turns back to ivory
to an easter egg yesterday 
to a time of bouncing ball and spinning jack,
when the mind was a great silky nest...
the face a flowered meadow place 
where watercolors swirled all day, 
the heart worms kept at bay.

I'll stay hidden within the weeds, 
till the jewels of memories soothe 
every scar - every stripe,
the molten knots of cruelty,
till the sweetened fruit reclaims the tree.
until then only my curtains breathe...
       ...stayed in the sun 
              to long
                today




Copyright © Anthony Slausen | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

The Winter Blues

The Winter Blues
Robert J. Lindley 

Winter blew in with a scant little whimper 
Fall skulked away with hardly a peep 
Deep cold, blowing winds fit some's temper 
Yet others they sadden enough to weep! 

Snow brings its beauty and shining charms 
Frigid air sets furry critters about 
Blizzards blasting forth set great alarms 
Where frozen forested cries ring out. 

Nature knows best and gives as she pleases 
Hardest season sets the coming stage 
Death and pain, of which Spring then eases 
Time for each, says the wizened sage! 

Cold chills, hang glisten silent through the night 
Decembers solstice sets the stage northbound 
Jack Frost pretends to be Earth's white knight 
Dark days of winter winds; ice-kiss the ground 

Autumn renews chilling barren vows, 
Wonderland enables the sun on numb 
Icicles form, a voice shared -leaving nature roused 
Winter's blue melodies washed down with rum 

A cold peril storm, enjoying the winter sky 
Frostbitten dawn, desolate sunset of worthlessness 
A leafless desire to intensify nature's supply 
Loss from exposed skin, of hopelessness 
*** 
Snow, Sleet, and hell; patients needing detox 
Atlas Spring gives way to the Viral Equinox 

(Robert Lindley and Poet Destroyer co-write) 

~ ~ A Poet Destroyer Collaboration ~ ~
----------------------------------------------------

Contest: Collaboration Celebration- subject- Winter Reflections. 
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

the you'est

when the world unfurls, 
and all that heart break spills out,
the daunting size and measure,
of problems and turmoil,
don't fear,
you are never as small as you think,

when fire dies,
and passion and genius you once knew,
disappears to some elusive recess,
beyond you're grasp,
don't despair,
you're never as dull as you imagine,

don't cling to days gone bye,
never believe you're best years have come and gone,
never believe you have grown stupid or cowardly,
you're only lost when you believe you are lost,

that fire burns brilliant inside of you,
you're larger than life and sharper than diamond glass,
and if you'le let them in, 
you're best days are still to come,

don't be afraid to let you're fire,
you're genius show, 
don't shrink just so others don't feel insecure around you,
so others don't judge you,
be brash, 
be huge,
be the largest most reckless self you can be,
never limit yourself,
fill out all the space you can,
be the you'est you,
be you're self.

Copyright © Oliver Gould | Year Posted 2015

Details | Lyric | |

While You Sleep

While you sleep I tell you all of the things I keep inside throughout day.
Now that you can hear but not listen I find them much easier to say.
My hopes, my dreams, my fears, and everything in between
Your subconscious hears so keen, or so it seems.
My tongue is soft; I speak so sweetly 
Knowing your reaction will never greet me.

Tonight will be different in what I want you to know.
It has everything to do with what I can’t help but show.
I hold no claim to any religion but you’ve given me a place for my faith.
Somewhere it will never stale or lose its lavish taste.
You’ve shown me something I can see, touch, and feel, 
And so before it I choose to kneel.

I know I don’t say it but I miss you every day.
Sitting, thinking of the perfect words to be my choice,
Yet when you call I can’t find any of the right words to say.
I’m just happy to finally hear your voice.
Even just a moment is enough to sooth my heavy heart;
Fearing the ends of conversations knowing we’ll have to part.

I’ll never be too far from you, always within arm’s reach,
And in your days of darkness I’ll be the light that you will seek.
I’ll never let you leave too far from me, I’ll stay close behind you in this world;
Secretly protecting what is mine, you will always be my girl.
I only want the best for you so the best of me I will employ.
Faithfully yours, I will always be your boy.

I close my eyes and kiss your soft sweet lips
And see the very best of you in loving bliss.
I see past the physical which makes you attractive
And focus on the things I can’t see in which I’m attracted.
Your thoughts I’d love to hear them all.
Of the things you speak disinterest never makes its call.

My day will come, I know someday I’ll be the only one.
And you I will pursue viciously,
Because I’ve given you the greatest gift I can give, to love unconditionally.
Yes our day will come, I know someday we’ll be as one.
And you I will pursue viciously,
Because I’ve given you the greatest gift I can give… to love unconditionally.

Copyright © Kristopher Higgs | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Beautiful people

People make me smile the way 
their eyes shine when they talk 
about something they love 
when they feed me food. Or tell 
me how much they love me 
when I look into someone's 
eyes and see it I see that look 
in their eyes I see love in them 
When I see someone laugh and 
have fun in what they do 
The way they cry for there lost 
ones
When they give me a smile and 
tell me how beautiful I am 
People are beautiful well some 
are and I wish someday I can 
find someone who will look at 
me and say "you have that look 
in your eye"    what look?
"Happiness" 
I want to find someone so 
beautiful in the inside I can't 
stay away they amaze me with 
what they say an do how they 
will dance in the rain and know 
every detail about me
Will bring me Starbucks on a 
rainy day and just talk about 
the stars 
I want someone beautiful

Copyright © brittney lopez | Year Posted 2013

Details | Diminished Hexaverse | |

A MILESTONE

Dismal stars out
Contrite to feelings
The moon glows brightly.
The storm is inside.
Tears form as I cry.

Regret, I don’t.
Have I done wrong?
Here and now stand
Weeping for hope.

Willow tree
Sways in wind
Vision rapt

Hope gales.
Godspeed!

Life
|_______________________|
 Penned on January 02, 2015!

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2015

Details | Epic | |

THE AGE OF THRILL SEEKERS

Emartra Van Doyle, II was a powerful leader.
As a powerhouse, he knew this was his golden age.
He formed leaders and defeated procrastination.
He prepared them for the world to come.
A connection of minds he was assembling.
Amass of intelligence that could construct and destroy.
When the time comes, Emarta Van Doyle, II would rule the universe with his  
     deployments.
There he stood with his mind in a riddle as he depolymerized his competitors.
Effete they became when he spoke.
Emartra was one of demonic presence but this was the beginning of his knowledge   
    within the world.
He was in the twenty-first century to explore the future.
Only the darkness knew his secret.

The organization was a corporate one.
Employing over five thousands plus individuals, Van Doyle, II had the love of work  
    captured.
He was not born in wealth but at thirty-three years of age, he physically engaged 
    himself in becoming prestigious.
Colloguing with hundreds at a time, Emartra collaboration was refined.
His mind would inform his ambiances and architect would emerge bringing forth a 
    new world.
They emigrated from a universe not yet discovered but claimed a country in the   
    Western Hemisphere.
Emartra knew his people and his identity was as a birth child.
While artificial insemination is his form, his biological father was his mother’s 
    husband.
Yet never to reveal as anything else, Emartra laughs because no means exist.
His people will come as emigrates.

Soon the trumpet will sound.
Triumphantly they will rejoice in the streets.
Their spirits will be high and they are normal people.	
However, once the darkness unfolds, the world, which they embrace, will biblically 
     emerge into a state of being.
Work life sentient only to those that is responsive intellectually.
Yet, Emartra is the brain that constructs.
The people of the world knew nothing of him.
Distinguished from its material elements, Emartra politicked the fundamentals.
Now in the mainstream of society is advocacy configured to take minds as no one 
     ever had.
Via the documentation of historians, what is occurring is universally mirage.
That is a change such as the first upright being to humanity today.
Emartra, metacognition postulates that depiction with ease.
He is well written through his playwrights.
He will seek another’s mind to prophesize.

This is the age of thrill seekers.
Emartra plays will capture the universe of people.
Humankind ritualized in which iniquity will meet perilous times.
Architect has change the scene.
People features and personality are not really the same.
Medical science has no knowledge of this revelation.
The world has been smitten by a difference in humanity.
Yet, man is man as woman is woman and as child is child.
Emartra is enjoying life.
Married and father of five, he is ideology of normal living.
By shaped, formed, and fashioned, he is a thrill seeker.
Today configuration is manifestation of delight that makes a quiver in society.
|_____________________________________________________________|
Penned on December 12, 2014!

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014

Details | Narrative | |

True Praise

I used to look at your wrinkly hands
And see the veins follow routes like a map
Your fingers shook like a spayed chihuahua on the piano keys
Demonstrating the chord in which I was supposed to play after you

I was thinking instead about the stool we were sharing
How old and fragile  the wooden piece was
The green-blue floral padding faded and worn
The chipped, wobbly legs 
That creaky sound when you repositioned...
And I was praying it wouldn't collapse under our bodies

Your voice was gentle and calm 
Softly pushing me back to my practice
 and my fingers played that bright G Chord
“Very good,” You praised with a smile
Your voice so small and lightly faded
But still loving and pleasant

You explained to me arpeggios and broken chords
And I was glad it was you explaining it
I remember yelling at my dad
And throwing a big tantrum over playing “Allouette” 
His straight harsh voice cut my fingers off the keys
As he ordered me to pay attention
Watching his hairy fingers demonstrate the left hand
And then the right
Pressing loudly and ramming the song into my every being

And I remembered 
I was never concerned about making him angry
I would laugh if he made a mistake in teaching
Or if he stumbled on his words - which was frustratingly rare
I would scream if he corrected me
And yet I was determined for his praise
That he never gave 

Your son loved music like you
And he wanted me to love it just like him
In an annoyed kind of way, I obliged
But I would make him suffer for forcing it on me
Even if I couldn't deny it was something I would always love

We never have our piano lessons anymore, Grandma 
But I will never forget how you taught me
That stool remains in the room
It hasn't been sat on for days

And it took far more than mere days
To receive from your son…true praise

But that’s okay
I will pray it collapses under his body

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

To run or not to run

Child thinking about running away

Neglected…unprotected…
frayed from the inside
impaired…nobody cared…
I have no mother to nourish my unhealthy soul. My father loved the bottle and the bruises          combined with my mental wounds brought forth contused abrasions.
Free me, please, free me…
I am only a little girl who has dreams that only a little girl can dream. I am seeing that no matter what direction I walk I will always be in constant frantic fear. I am never going to be the little girl I should be. I am going to grow to be shameful as my innocence was stolen at such a young age. I had no concentration with too much recognizable pain. I started to skip classes. It began when the verbal distress grew worse. The damage caused so much pain I fell to the ground ragged and mangled.
Insults. belt buckles. wooden sticks.
If I make a decision to show a smile, I’ll be crying on the inside. If I choose to laugh, I’ll be drowning in panic internally. I am so tired…tired of my concealed sorrow.                                                                                                           Beyond the depth of nothingness, my silence lives inside a tomb. I have become two separate girls. One girl was bright and blameless with purity in her spirit. The other girl was battered and alone with no guidance, only abuse.  Surprisingly, I felt my life was worth saving and I knew my decision may bring me peace and safety. 
Packing one bag…packing two books…packing my teddy 
I knew in my heart it was the only way to escape the inferno of my father’s torment...


Runaway child

Sleepless nights contemplating; missing mum.
Next time his intoxication could kill me.
Tired of trying to fit in - remaining silent,
hardships of life turned me into a burden.

Mind made up, house disappeared into obscurity,
wind howled as rain gushed; but there was no going back.
Regret sets in as fear culminates,
ironically wanting my father to find me - he does not come.

The world seems so big - I feel so small,
like a mouse hiding from sly predators.
Penniless, scared, cold and hungry; 
wandering unknown streets - searching warm sanctuary.

In desperation, forced to commit acts
no 15 year old should ever experience.
Days on the street, lead to months..
Stained clothes - unwashed; dirty like a rat.
Frantically searching to belong - marginally surviving.
Don't know where to turn or who to trust, 
violated in a world of abuse.

Wondering what I ever did to deserve this.
Wishing I had never ran away.

26 April 2016
Collaboration with Laura Loo and Silent One

Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2016

Details | Chastushka | |

PrEmAtUrE aGiNg

pReMaTuRe AgInG
an older woman and a younger man are a trix in between because as his love blooms he sees himself aging. _________________________|
penned on august 31, 2014!

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014

Details | Lyric | |

Velvet Wings

Ignorant to passing time
Reality strikes its deafening chime
Unspoken words pass between
I and you, my darling queen

Lay your weary head to rest
With your arms across your chest
Now it's time to close your eyes
Whisper your final goodbyes

Let me go, we'll both be free
Cross the wasteland, past the sea
Find the path to heaven's light
Break away from endless night

Embracing tears of bitter pain
Falling lightly with the rain
Out of reach, I hear your song
Alone again, I sing along

Let me go, we'll both be free
Cross the wasteland, past the sea
Find the path to heaven's light
Break away from endless night

From the night. . .
I watched your velvet wings take flight
I never saw you so alive
So alive
I watched your velvet wings take flight
I'll never ever say goodbye
Never say goodbye

Life has ended, you have won
Death befriended, pain is gone
Fly away into the light
Crystal clear and shining bright
Close your eyes for final rest
Meeting among the blessed

Let me go, we'll both be free
Cross the wasteland, past the sea
Find the path to heaven's light
Break away from endless night

From the night. . .
I watched your velvet wings take flight
I never saw you so alive
So alive
I watched your velvet wings take flight
I'll never ever say goodbye
Never say goodbye

I let you go so you'll be free
Cross the path of darkened sea
I watched your velvet wings take flight
I can never say goodbye
Never say goodbye


Collaboration with Rebecca Larkin <3
A song, and lyrics

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Crown of Sonnets | |

Mankind

I am lost
I can feel no presence
I know of no human or animal that has a measure of significance alike mine
I have a teacher
A teller of all there is to be known of the world
She has bestowed upon me the gifts of a magi
I have sailed deep oceans with noblemen and written great works with worldly scholars
All of this I owe to her, my "teacher"
But through all her wisdom I have heard or seen of no such creature
The one of whose value is as mine
I looked upon the oracle and many great libraries with scriptures overflowing
I still have read or seen of no such monster
I've heard witches speak ancient incantations
and I have sung songs with the sirens
Out of the monsters and spirits that came none of which had a significance as is mine
Upon my dreariness and woeful thought came the final place
A painting of life and death
A tale of heaven and hell at war
The purity of truth blackened by man
 I saw upon them a thing of which is mine
Not upon the dead who will be missed
Nor the skeletons carrying away the dead, the ones with purpose
Not even of the severed limbs and broken bones discarded at random in the field of chaos and confusion
No, I saw my equal upon the shadows
A black being darker than silence
A causer of mischief and misfortune
A wielder of pain and sorrow
My equal is hated by all for all he has done
My equal is upon the wicked and the damned sadly he is to dumb to care
My equal of such tresspasses is a demon
My equal is a man who dressed in black kills and dies and is born again through his ashes of filth
He sees his crimes
It is because of this he wept upon his hands
His hands
The hands stained my children's blood and scared by the scratches of the innocent
But I was wrong
I am not equal to a demon, for these are not the acts of a demon but of man
That is my equal 
My equal is man
My sins are everlasting 
My transgressions are in stone
Man is the cause for the failure of men
Man is the cause for the failure of many!






Posted by Haley Melton at 3:37 AM  
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Copyright © Haley Melton | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

I Will Never Kiss Those Lips

Well there you are
I have slithered into the wrong home tonight it seems
I sniffed out the repugnant ward and I don’t like what I see
You were magnificent in the face of all beholding you
But your conceit is a trap that even I, the snake, have fallen into
You mask yourself with humility
You compliment me to gain
Begging for the summer rain
Begging for the words that would settle your brain
You got it
But instead it rained on me
Showering me with dangling promises
As typical as can be
Empty
These words so execrably wasted on you
As if for a moment I could even dare CRAVE a poem for you
I do not hate you
I cannot love you
At times I do not know what to feel
Why do you do this? 
Put on a show and hope someone will notice? 
Do you want a nice pat on the back?

I am armless; I am all but muscle and scales
I am a dead carcass and yet you continue to compliment
The beauty of my revulsion 
I hold it to my heart
This trap you set 
I helped you set it right from the start
And you have forced upon me the mere THOUGHT of you
Taking away from my bitter lines 
What empty necessity I have turned out to be
Some kind of trophy coiled around your feet
Walking all over me

I’ve hissed and I’ve hurled insult 
And the rain pitter-pattered my distain
You rested knowing I would remain
You needed reassurance
You always needed GAIN

Well I’ll tell you
This serpent is drained
And oh how I hiss
I will not change into that typical mistress
That settles your conscience with a kiss
You will not have me 
I will never kiss those lips

For you are as fake as can be
And not even a snake like me
Will help you in the deceiving
As everyone watches your show
The only one truly believing
Is YOU 

Don’t hesitate out the door
I’ll swallow you whole

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain | |

Average Age 19

Once again, the powers that must
In rise again in what we trust
An overseas conflict, another war
Just what in the hell are we fighting for

Families are asking, Korea has just passed
Generations again reft, how long will it last
A country in need, to rebuild again
Flags at half mast, in wind and rain strain

Once again into war, sent by the Washington Post
To send back reports to hit home the most
Military observers were the first to be sent in
Another chapter of man entering existing sin

I'm witnessing our ariel power, Lam Son 719
US planners determine their incursion, saying all will be fine
Along the Mekong River, we'll carpet bomb their supply trail
Tons of munitions and napalm, this spread surely cannot fail

Many sorties are being flown, for the wounded and the dead
Whilst Nixon and his cronies, aren't thinking with their heads
The news of losses has reached me, nineteen have been killed
Eleven missing, fifty nine wounded, more American blood spilled

Seven fixed wing aircraft, more sons in action loss
Whilst back at home more protests, fading the dyeing's gloss
To to this job that I do, I was never prepared for this
To witness such bloody scenes, and ignore that life is bliss

How can I write about a soldier, whose name I'll never know
Killed at nineteen years old, his family he'll never see grow
Or even explain to his parents, when carried from the AH-1
His body bullet riddled and limp, when lifted it bloodily run

I never went back to the theatre, called the Vietnam War
Having witnessed the wanton killing, what were we fighting for
This colonial conflict that started, us on the side of France
So many came back as strangers, many to live in trance





James Fraser's entry into the contest " WORLD OF WAR: VIETNAM "


Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse | |

Forgotten You

Forgotten you
As your mind collects the memories of yesterday
Forgotten You
Epiphanies tie into knotty strings of realization
That very moment. . . 
You merely exist

Back then. . .those smiles
Those. . .distant laughs
Some you remember by name
Gone now maybe
Like the exhalation of the wind
Others dispersed in the world of arbitrary happening
Like leaves from falling, man-made trees
There is no doubt that they have
Forgotten you

Activate the bomb
Ignite the fuse
And you’re on next year’s history book
Never forgotten
But drained of all remaining good

That smile you gave
That happiness
The warm embrace so long ago
Salt-coated with piles of rubbish
Over last remaining mental spurts of comfort
Evil, evil, evil, evil, EVIL. . .
Always absorbed and remembered
. . .though never forgiven. . .

All good and gracious sentiments
Packed up in a box set nonchalantly in Downstair’s storage
. . .that chair with the broken leg in the corner of the room
That mangled cobweb holding a dangling, lifeless spider
A drowned sailor’s hat drifting through the current of the ocean
The single tear from a soldier’s vigilant, memory-stricken eye
The frustrating thoughts of a mute
The unchanged. . .HATED deformations

Forgotten you. . .
One soul brings to light weary, unthought-of happenings
Wedged deep into what she can only imagine
With not even a hint of understanding
. . .of the pain. . . .of the bewildering distortions
Of the ugly. . .
One soul merely vomits sickly verse after verse

As humanity embraces its downfall
The poet hangs onto her unjustifiable, forgotten. . .
Words

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

It Doesn't Help To Cry

You're confined to a bed
with a sweaty smell.
And there are no windows,
as far as you can tell.

Food spills on your covers,
while flies eat from your plate.
And you find yourself in
a vulnerable state.

The radio’s broken,
yet, there’s no books to read.
And you can't get a nurse,
no matter how you plead.

Geriatric nightmares,
waken you in this place.
And you feel forgotten,
as the years slow their pace.

You know that you’ll be here
until the day you die.
And yet, you hold your tears,
it doesn't help to cry.

Secluded in shadows,
you long to feel the sun.
And pray death will soon come,
so your time here is done.

Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

A Look Back

A Look Back
 

Fleeting the moments of laughter and joy,
   Love promises so much more:
There is no finality in the life garnered
   Once we see the dread of its end.

So short were the days in the sun:
   Where shining dawns offered deep hope
All we once were has now been done
   We live and loved in a dream.

Robert J. Lindley. 06-30-2015

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015

Details | Acrostic | |

The Angst Of Our Age

To arrive
Here on this planet
Eager and

Avid to participate in a
Noble Grace-filled saga, our lives
Gave way to
Serious reflection on hollow
Truths that had too long prevailed ...

Of war and honor and the
Frustration of our Peace fervor brought

Outrage and confusion as the
Ultimate
Reality

Appeared:  human beings are
Giving
Evolution a tragic ending.

Copyright © Sue Mason | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse | |

Tropical Depression

Coconut mind 
Practical 
At first thought.
But all that lays inside 
is the same milk you expected.
Sometimes the milk is worse.
My limbs flop around like a fish out of water
As I aimlessly do anything
Aimlessly everything 
On my island 
Alone.
I am able to provide myself something
Proud for a moment 
Until I remember that everyone who ever loved me
Feels bad for me.
11 years old
Fortune cookie
I pick it up
‘Continue to sit’ it read
I took it to heart
I accepted every person
And hoped they would accept me.
Why would they?
All I have is spilt milk 
Years of hammering my head
On my island 
Alone.

Copyright © Cole Mileaf | Year Posted 2015

Details | Sonnet | |

One Senior's Sonnet

One Senior’s Sonnet

The feelings are frozen, fetid in time,
Decisions denied to the dwindling mind;
Possibilities piling like lengths of twine;
Acceptance of aging cannot be blind.

Duties demean while trying to hold on;
Where hides the help while faculties dim?
Will compassion kindle the fire now gone?
Can joints jump for joy in arthritic limbs?

The sun is sinking in a twilight red rest.
Peace being pursued is allowed conquest.
And tasks like talisman line up in rows
In order opting one by one were chose.

The frightening fear of morning’s trembly dawn,
With prayer and persistence is dead and gone.

Copyright © Sunlite Wanter | Year Posted 2016

Details | Verse | |

Reality (Age: 12)

"The world is your oyster,"
Some wise man once said.
This wise man was nuts,
What was wrong with his head?

The world's a cold place,
Which is easy to see;
From our cool, mirky waters;
To our beautiful, dead trees.

They used to talk about soulmates,
When love equaled life;
Now they murder the husband,
Who cheats on his wife.

"Every man for himself,"
That's our new motto now;
And try finding a man, 
That could pray or teach how.

"The world is your oyster,"
Some wise man once said;
I wonder if our wise friend,
Ever got out of bed.

Copyright © Lauren Stoner | Year Posted 2006

Details | Free verse | |

the loons have been and gone

The loons have been and gone this weekend—
Mergansers, Canada Geese—shedding autumn;
Some asking me to join them—
but this is not my time.

I gaze over the steely, fall blue of Lake Huron
and see
Stonehenge, Atlantis pathways
and turn back to Spindrift, drizzled.

I hear you... all of you...

laughter, shrieks, secret murmurs, intense opinions
bracketed by louder articulations of rowdy disagreement,
and loudest is the brooding silence, split crossways by our looniness—
and love.

And I see you... all of you...

who grace this sanctuary—
you swim, read, eat, play, chatter, cry, sleep—
and love—

your lingering forms move around and about
at will
and come
to the always-smoldering
firepit of stories and songs
punctuated with cloudy dots of marshmallows

and I see the one
who came but twice
not re-welcomed in her
tumult, bedlam, incessantness—
her roiling wake

and i the mourning dove
see her spirit and we
glide by
each other
touch wing to wing

passing, our alwayspassing
never stayinglong in that passing—
each having opposite directions to take
always

farewell, mother of my earthbirth
free now in the skies and stars you yearned for
always

I miss you
as I always have.

Copyright © ellyn peirson | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme | |

This is me

My knees were the things that 
kept me up and my skin is my 
cutting board my eyes are the 
rain clouds to the fire running 
down my arms and my heart is 
the fire place that keeps me 
burning so calm

Copyright © brittney lopez | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

Age Discrimination is Rampant

Age Discrimination is Rampant

By Elton Camp

Younger folks don’t think about such stuff
You will if you manage to live long enough

I didn’t experience it until after I retired
And looked for a new place to be hired

Jobs for which I was extremely qualified
My visage, interviewers suspiciously eyed

Just because I wasn’t young any more
I found that I couldn’t get past the door

Actually the money I didn’t really need
But wanted to keep ability up to speed

Computers I have taught students to use
Yet, tech incompetence some did accuse

And at one place, this young gutter snipe
Assumed I didn’t even know how to type

I was ignored or some false reason told
Not a one dared say that I was too old

But despite prejudice and unspoken jeers,
I found a job and worked for several years

Copyright © Elton Camp | Year Posted 2011

Details | Light Poetry | |

Come and See me Fade Away

Sap has run dry
Time for me to die

My smile has run away
On the horse of my childhood

Spring will be no more
A season beyond my grasp

Life has fluttered away
Wasted moments, in lines

Gluttonous desires have filled me
With veins of death

No love to hold
No life I am told

Voices dancing in my head
Sweet words after I am dead

Ravens and crows all in black
Line up behind the vultures in suits

The last song, whispers her sad melody
As a silent ghost comes along

To witness my demise
Kissing the cold grey stone 

Beholden to dreary skies
As I rest among the rodents and flies

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme | |

The Happy Dress

It’s a mother-in-law’s right, her prerogative 
To ‘drop in’ on her son almost any time,
But a mother-in-law should always be prepared
For almost anything she may find.

So, Mother Cready dropped in unannounced;
But as she approached her son’s front door,
Suddenly it opened.  “Ta Da!  Do you like my happy dress?”
His young wife stood there in her ‘all in all’…nothing more.

“Oh, my word!” Mother Cready exclaimed with surprise.
“Why are you naked?  Are you insane?”
Just as surprised, the young wife pulled her inside.
“Please, Mother Cready…if you’ll just let me explain.

You see, when Mac has had a rough day,
When he’s been under a lot of stress,
Sometimes I meet him at the door
With a smile and a kiss in my happy dress.

It always relaxes him and makes him happy,
Then he makes me very happy too.
It works for Mac and me, Mother Cready;
Maybe it would work for you.”

“We’re too old for such.” scoffed Mother Cready.
“Perhaps if we were young like the two of you.”
But, on her way home, she decided
She was definitely going to try it too.

So, she bathed and put on some nice perfume,
Fixed her make-up and her hair.
She was thinking some very sexy thoughts,
But she had to hurry…no time to spare.

She heard her husband’s car in the driveway;
And as he approached their front door,
She threw it open.  “Ta Da! Do you like my happy dress?"
She stood there in her ‘all in all’…nothing more.

She saw a little grimace cross his face,
But that was not the worst.
Then he said, “I appreciate your happy dress, my dear;
But maybe you should have ironed it first.”

ALTERNATE LAST VERSE

“Well…your ‘happy dress’ could use some ironing;
But my birthday suit could use some starch.”
He kissed her. “Bet you and I can work it out.”;
And off to bed they marched.

Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014

Details | Imagism | |

EFFICACIOUS II - FOR ADULT CONTEST

EFFICACIOUS ii - (“FOR ADULT CONTEST”) Despite how difficult it is everyone has to grow up. Embracing the world with or without an agenda, Adulthood is such a SWOT analysis. Strengthen to progress… Weaken in the process… Opportunity is a knock away. Treat yourself with positive thinking. Step forward with your bat. Strike and maybe it will leave the ballpark. If you strike out, do not fret. Life as an adult has its disappointments. Next step is coming up fast. Hang tough so that you will be who laugh last. Your strides diversify. This is the true meaning of being an adult. You are your own self-worth. [End of Poem] Philosophical Tenet: We are our own creation! ___________________________________ Penned April 21, 2015!

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

We're Still Here

...en l'an soixante-dix de mon age...

All the familiar names from our youth
now belong to aged, unfamiliar faces.
Even my own reflection startles
as I pass the mirror
hanging in the hall.
Suddenly, we are old.
And, although taken by surprise,
we must accommodate reality --
perhaps convince ourselves
how lucky we survivors are --
how much better that we wear
these flaccid faces, these worn-out bodies,
these aids and apparatuses,
than to have ended
while in almost-mint condition.
But these are mere macabre,
septuagenarian musings.
So, let's forget all this!
Turn up the music
and hear us murmur,
in weakly mordant, fatalistic,
untriumphant chorus:
"We're still here!"

Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2013

Details | Carpe Diem | |

Dig

Broken,beaten,blind and lost
All but a spark of hope left to keep warm
But dig and claw on bruised muscles, on broken limbs
Until the light day fills your sight
Left blinded no more
Dig
Until the soft fresh air blows the spark to a flame and ignites your will
Dig
Until the ground beneath is solid enough to stand
Walk,until the pain is mastered and stumbling ceases.
And you can say:
This will not be my grave.

Copyright © Gillian Brown | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Jimmy, El Nopalero

Nopalero = one who deals with/sells nopales [edible prickly pear cactus leafs/pads]

Aiiiii, Jimmy --
what shall we say, now that you've gone,
worst fear realized:  your body discovered,
days later, in your filthy Mexican rooms,
amid the soiled paper littering the floors,
reeking of cat urine and layer upon layer
of dried and fresher feces.
These feral cats were your most faithful companions.
You thought yourself their benefactor and, perhaps, their savior.
We were told that, after your demise, when the door opened,
all 21 fled, never to return.  You left us,
unbathed, smelly, shunned, just weeks before 
your birthday, having almost (but not quite) 
suffered through 80 years, the last 30 
spent in bordertown Mexico.  You, daily, crossed
the bridge to claim your mail -- which (for a fee)
promised to guarantee you would be a winner
of lotteries, sweepstakes, miraculous windfalls.
You subsisted on senior coffees at McD's, 
on your pitiful government assistance.
You blamed your life on abuse by brothers
(all dead long before you) and you could not
understand why richer acquaintances --
virtually everyone -- were unwilling
to share with you their bounty.
In the plazas, you were a familiar sight,
selling whatever you could: you were "el viejo gringo,"
"el Jimmy," "el nopalero," and other less generous
(but, perhaps, appropriate) names.
You knew animals, had some expertise with birds.
Your chief preoccupation was yourself,
and your main complaint was 
that you never got your just desserts.
But no one deserves to end as you did -- unclaimed, 
a foreign body, interred in Mexico
in an unmarked pauper's grave: 
a "fosa comun."  You only wanted to be loved. 
RIP my friend; I did not mean to be unkind.

James Milford Pierson, 27 February 1934 - 2 February 2014.

Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2014