earth are as
fleeting as a
shadow. Try as we
might to hold onto them
They slip through our fingers like
hourglass sand and we grow old. Our
memories fade, sight grows dim, names and
faces escape our grasp. Every day we
struggle to maintain our dignity. Steps
grow slower, hearts grow weaker as time
takes its toll. Too soon death will come
calling and snatch us away.
But until that day we
live, we breathe, we love.
Every day is a
gift from God.
Copyright © Kim Merryman | Year Posted 2016
Many years ago, when we were all young,
We really thought life, would be so much fun.
While playing dress-up, trying on mom’s stuff,
Putting on make-up, we found to be tough.
Then came our schooling, and boy things would change,
“Those aren’t our parents”, when they acted strange.
Sometimes they were hip, but old-fashioned too,
That’s something I swore, I would never do.
Wishing you were older, adults had it made,
They would do nothing, yet still would be paid.
That is how little, we all had known,
We surely found out, once we were grown.
Loving the twenties, we’d go out with friends,
When we went shopping, we followed the trends.
Doing what we wanted, and staying out late,
It didn’t matter, what time we all ate.
Then came the thirties, and most of us wed,
Watch what you wish for, my parents had said.
We had to work hard, many bills to pay,
I guess they were right, what more can I say?
Raising your children, was hardest of all,
Needing some advice, your parent’s you’d call.
It seemed so easy, they needed no rest,
So now it’s your turn, you learned from the best.
The forties arrived, that was a shocker,
We’d spend lots of time, just at the doctor.
Back aches and headaches, so tired you’d be,
Trying not to cough, or else you would pee.
The fifties would come, and your grandkids too,
Where were your glasses? You hadn’t a clue.
You searched here and there, and under the bed,
“Hey grandma” they laughed, “They’re right on your head”.
Here come the sixties, now let’s have some fun,
You are retired; your work is all done.
To dinner with friends, you dressed and you wait,
They never show up, you have the wrong date.
Now the seventies, with friends playing games,
If only you could, remember their names.
You try hard to hide, those under-eye bags,
Gravity happens, and everything sags.
Enjoy every day, and have a good laugh,
All the steps you took, led down a new path.
Live life as it comes, each year a new page,
One thing is for sure, everyone will age.
Copyright © Kelly Zakerski | Year Posted 2009
Dancing all around
Frolicking through fields
Just like you!
Copyright © Smail Poems | Year Posted 2013
Easy comes beauty in youth’s natural spring,
But with age its mellow dimensions grow.
Like to a bud, a full bloom, age will bring.
With grace its beauty does ebb and glow,
Its liberty allows its new functions to show.
Mature beauty is and will be admired always,
Youth’s beauty and its esteem goes to and fro,
But ageless deeper beauty has endless days.
Mature beauty has a melody to sing,
And this it releases so that you will know,
The elegance and blessing of its echo’s ring.
The evidence of a mind is part of its show,
For it opens tastefully with a view to bestow.
Ageless beauty never lacks for praise.
The beauty of life’s spring may lose its glow,
But ageless deeper beauty has endless days.
In poetry and melody its praises we bring,
For mature beauty’s many dimensions we know.
With fervid dignity I see it take to wing,
Giving the young buds an inspiring show.
May you long guide youth as they grow,
Leading them in elegance the celestial ways.
So youth will know how easy beauty may go,
But ageless deeper beauty has endless days.
Now young buds aspire to full blooms grow,
And become worthy of nature’s timeless praise.
Allow your charm in majesty and grace to glow,
And may your ageless beauty have endless days.
Copyright © Albert Price | Year Posted 2008
Above the clouds, beyond the tree she stays.
Remaining thus, the moon is chaste for now,
Allowing not her well-worn face to show
The many scars belying better days.
I glide along, my wheelchair making way
For no man here, the streets bereft of flow,
Garages closed to keep their cars in stow.
I roam the night, while they may share the day.
Secluded thus I flee from ghosts untold
Who question where my life has gone astray
While broken paths and other wrecks unfold.
I’m lost and cannot seem to find my way
Toward peace of mind, a way out of the cold;
The growing mist thus edging joy away.
Copyright © Ken Crawford | Year Posted 2014
I rise to face yet still more life again
And know my day will be about my age
Through sight that makes all things appear opaque
I hear about each third word spoken clear.
I walk with cane a slow but sure tempo
And get to where I aim without much fuss
Yet still it seems I burden those who care
To take the time to bare my years nonpluss.
Each time I rise to face my life once more
Trumps thoughts of laying still without regard
For pains one takes to move upon this earth
Or see and hear with clarity implored.
I thank my Lord for each new day He gives
And givers who see beyond one’s struggle
With patience and always kind words spoken
Dignity and respect to me maintained.
Copyright © Michael Wegman | Year Posted 2014
A serial of haikus, all addressing the same topic with
a hint of humor; but advice that could save your life
or that of a loved one. New to PoetrySoup, so I hope
I'm not "out of order" with this submission or topic.
Cold, flexible steel
Probing my dignity...
This “simple” exam
“…could prevent cancer.” they say.
We all have to die,
But not from colon cancer.
There's a downside tho’.
“Yuk! That, nasty brown liquid.”
“But boy, does it work...
Work and work and work some more.
Baring your buttocks...
In a fetal position;
“No polyps", they say.
There are no malignancies.
Your colon’s okay.
It’s five years until your next...
Want some peace of mind?
Insurance may pay for it.
One “simple” exam
Can provide that peace of mind.
You might save your life.
Over 45? Do it!
Cold, flexible steel.
On the other hand, what if…
Something else kills you?
Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014
The following immunizations
Recommended for kids
10 to 12 years old
Help protect from dangerous diseases
These important shots
Tdap (tetanus diphtheria, pertussis)
Protects against 3 dangerous diseases
Required before 7th grade
Kids need 1 shot between ages 10-12 years
HPV (Human papilloma virus)
Requires 3 shots for full protection
First shot required between ages 9 or 12
A booster at age 16
Protects against infections
Can cause brain and kidney damage
Preteens need 1 shot at age 11 or 12
Much serious than the common cold
Everyone needs to get the flu vaccine every year
Even young healthy kids
More than just an itchy rash
Can cause Pneumonia or serious infections
Kids needs 2 shots
Talk to your doctor
About getting these vaccines
Protect yourself against these serious diseases
Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza | Year Posted 2013
abuse, age, discrimination, health, introspection, lonely, old,
Customs To Getting Old ©
There are very ingrained customs noted when getting old
Getting accustomed to old age is not one of them
One has to be blessed with 65 years of life to be noted
As Senior Citizen you are given rank status from the start
Living and ‘recently’ dead is one as it comes to my mind
I am still with a doable durable mind and very much alive!
Grandchildren love us for hugs, kisses and granting treats
We get to be called anything along the realm of 'Grandparenthood'
There is ‘Ganny/ Gampy, Granny/Poppers, Nanny/Papa, Grandma, Grandpa’--- etc.
This lists goes on and all for a ‘love made’ successful act for begetting offspring at the start
Aging parents we might be, but really now, we are becoming 'ageless' old lonely souls
But it does seem a great era to live-up to and be remembered for a time
We all have legacies, monumental or financial rewards that will be passed on
But most accounts to moneyed estates are something being chewed up and spat out
Cost of living is too high today and pensions but a trivial godsend gifted for accumulative worked years
Due to endless insurances ‘rendered’ and especially now ‘senioratised’ we are made to claim prematurely
We are gifted and very lucky with monthly- income Government (payouts) from dues paid for service rendered, thank you citizen
Old Age Pension and Government Pension checks do arrive ‘all’ on time each month
Helps our old-timers out somewhat because security in senior living is out dated
These splendid silver/golden years under the roofs of children who nurture us aid
Is something of the past too, gone out of style with the coming in of the new age
Great medical care for the elderly is a given to the times and rightly so
But so many cut-backs are manifesting because as baby-boomers our numbers are high
So costly a ‘society’ entanglement we seem to have become and too greedy in want
That to assist us in our living accommodations and day to day care seems over the top
And it is all for breathe and feed when all is done and said so we can be able to enjoy our retirement years
We are in this great era of computer/phone hacking ‘whiz-ding-dongs’ and are their hopeless prey
So susceptible to these scams that trick and bleed us dry and take us to the cleaners is the catch of the day
“And I wasn’t born yesterday” refrain is outdated and holds no truths as “can’t teach an old dog new tricks” ever did
Our instinctive ‘sound alarms’ over time wisdom gatherings have been faulty battery sensed
We are used, abused unfairly ‘counted’ to self-care restrictions to gain our rightful place
It is no wonder natures culling is backlogged as we short-change her call with ‘longevity’
Losing one’s mind/memory faculties seems on an up-rise and could be a curse or the cure to what ails us
I think I would like to play that mind-game ‘Alzheimer’s and be taken out
All the mind-set games accustomed for us is indeed overplayed this day
I think I would like to be ‘red’ game piece and just throw the dice out to the floor It is my favourite colour and stands for ‘stop, don’t go and caution for evermore.
Copyright © Diane M Quinlan | Year Posted 2015
What is it?
Must we mark a calender,
and tell ourselves,
Okay, this is the midway point,
we’ve reached the summit.
From this point forward,
we’re on a downhill slide,
where the river’s bend
is transparent, purple turns
to gray, and summers char
your insides to ashes?
Do winters now
begin to freeze bones,
crack them like icicles
falling on concrete?
I have passed
the midway point,
so where does this leave me?
Do I vegetate, or
keep sliding into zero?
Well, listen up, mark it down.
I refuse to accept defeat,
I will beat the odds.
I am my mother’s daughter.
Her indomitable spirit
permeates my genes.
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2015
THE ULCERATED COLON
I wander through my dark--a mournful soul--
chastised--and to the point of no return,
from feeling I may die--an Earthly goal,,
with ev'ry beat of life--I sting and burn!
An acid feeling, borned from deep in me,
encompassing my ev'ry living cell--
and though I'm with the world--or seem to be--
all I've become--is what no words can tell
and searching for the peace--some where in space,
a tiny speck of hope--to pain no more--
until I'm brought back to the human race
by misery of what life has in store.
And when I take the pause--I never know
what ugliness my body's letting go.
That vilest of the vile--of all I've known--
lays tainted by the blood I hold so dear,
accompanied by mucous--or alone--
it shakes my heart right to my greatest fear.
Oh! Lord--lay not mine eyes--onto these things--
but what's been normal throughout all my youth,
such beauty's not beheld--until life brings--
the ugly passing on--of my uncouth!
And grant an understanding--of it all--
to those who never know the pain of it.
Yea--never might they have to climb the wall--
nor have to pray life lets them live a bit.
If guilt be mine--I've paid ten thousand ways--
enough to compensate--for all my days!
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2014
Pills, Pills, Pills
For all my aches and all my ills.
Many shapes, and lots of sizes
Can fight any sickness that arises.
Some are big, and some are small.
It does not matter I take them all.
Colours also help me know
Which one makes my illness go.
The one that’s large and coloured green
Thins my blood and cleans my spleen.
Without the one that’s coloured red
My heart would stop and I’d be dead.
I know the one that is light brown
Perks me up when I feel down.
And if I’d had too much to drink
I take the one that’s coloured pink.
When I get up, I take a few
And after breakfast, some more too.
More at tea, and more at lunch
All day I must these darn pills munch
Some days however I get confused
I can’t remember which I’ve used.
My health would fail if I forgot
So to be sure, I take the lot.
And so it is we all get old
Though we thought it would never be.
And if today you are young and bold
Tomorrow you’ll be ill and take pills like me
Copyright © Patrick Maitland | Year Posted 2012
Green lush of green
lush green is green
a leaf of language
a branch of word
a flagstone steps
Heart of the earth is free,
fine arts literature
Green is nature
clarity of thinking
for the future!
Copyright © Neldy Jolo | Year Posted 2014
The Clothes Within My Closet
By Franklin Price
The clothes within my closet
Are such a sight to see
They tell quite a story
About the history of me
The range of sizes offered there
Thirty-two to thirty-six
The lower's where it's happening
A snugly upper needs a fix
Exercise a little more
Get up and move around
Amazing how the sizes change
Inversely to the chewing sound
Copyright © Franklin Price | Year Posted 2016
I met myself today, not that many years away.
A most arresting sight; it filled me full of fright:
My mind in disarray, all my senses, gone astray.
Every hour come what may, planning meals for the day.
Checking locks. Are they tight? Checking clocks. Are they right?
I watched myself today. not so many years away.
Only driving in the day. After dark I lose my way.
Hardly hearing, blurry sight, nothing seems to taste quite right.
All my senses gone astray, and my mind’s ... in disarray.
Searching for each word to say. Can’t remember yesterday.
Bathroom visits through the night, cursing til I find the light.
I heard myself today not that many years away.
Talk about childhood days, no matter what you had to say.
Both my knees rusted tight, can’t get up with out a fight.
Bent and frail, drawn and gray, everything’s in disarray.
Do I need this P.O.A. Deeds and wills seem OK
What about a funeral site? Who will give my last rite?
I asked myself today: “just how many years away?”
While visiting my Dad this past Father’s Day.
Copyright © Bob Bergman | Year Posted 2015
When we get old with arthritis in our bones we make thoughtful decisions about the use of our time. We can amuse our grandchildren while our children inhabit their jobs. We can volunteer to help others like a wolf that knows how to hunt. We can do something creative with our hours and work toward an outcome that warms people’s hearts.
We have options about what to do with our days. We can sit alone in our homes like the last drop of water left on a rock, or we can behave like practiced magicians who can slow down the clock with the snap of two fingers and live like an elder who is not afraid of the dark and be more inclined help our family and friends as they voyage down the highway of time.
Copyright © Howard Dion | Year Posted 2014
The world is full of people trying to stand out.
But they don’t realize that they already do.
They try so hard to figure what life’s all about.
With all their piercings, Crazy hair, and fresh tattoos.
They miss out because of the worry they feel.
Will they approve of the way I dress, think, or act?
In the spotlight a few moments they might steal.
But some of the stupid things they do can’t be taken back.
I have a secret that only the few wise ones know.
Love who you are and forget what they think.
And all the good things in life will soon follow.
And you shall rise above all as the critics sink.
So meet the world with you head held high.
Let them see the beauty that is in you.
Let them see your happiness and joy inside.
And know that nobody needs to love you more than you do.
Copyright © Carl Rankin | Year Posted 2013
I Love the elderly
so full of history
I love my generation
who kept me a mystery
I love the children
who's future, now bright
for I have died for them
to capture the light
for i understand
pain more than ever
once I released it
the anger got better
as it went away from the people
and into my music
without a single
reason to prove it
without a reason
to let Love's light in
I didn't, it found me
and lesser I sin
God and my father
both let me know
it would all be okay
so very long ago
even tho the road
would be full of pricks
even back then I'd tell them
you can all suck my dick.
Copyright © Bj Fard | Year Posted 2013
Golden days of youthful frolicking remembrance
As I lie upon my bed and wonder the time
Watching as my LOVE of life deteriorates into a villianous pain
Alzheimers destroys her mind; abuse and lethargy curse her actions
Hate and destruction spew from a dry well of memories
Time stands still in this room three sixteen until the end of days
Family doesn't want to see her emotional outburst
Visitations become less frequent, nurses are jaded to offer hope
Talks of transfering the "patient" into a special facility
Remove the problem from our mist....we can't be bothered with her outburst
In this room is the shell of a life...once lived according to her plans
Memories live on in the descendants when time can find peace again....
Copyright © Doris Culverhouse | Year Posted 2012
I grew up gay
and singing in musicals.
At the time, these two seemed coincidental,
although in retrospect....
Some dancing too
but with no training in that area,
more about singing.
I grew up with
The Hills are Alive with the Sound of Music.
Then I stopped growing up,
and went about the sometimes cooperative business
Community Economic Development
Divinity (which Bucky would call Synergy)
for HIV medications,
and high blood pressure,
and bad cholesterol outweighing the good.
Then I began growing out,
singing The Earth is Alive
in all Six Senses of Musical Opera.
Now I'm growing more deeply
into long term polycultural ecotherapeutic outcome planning,
cooperative financial and health-investment,
for both interior and exterior landscapes,
to bicameral rhythmic heart beat and air flow,
dancing a PolyCultural Opera
as cooperatively possible
through PostMillennial ReGenesis
WinWin eco-political coop networks.
They are everywhere
once you learn to see through time's health investment balance,
fractal-octave polycultural prime function,
e-squared = c-squared bicameral eyes, and trees,
ears, and Earth Tribe sounds of music,
and autonomic bilateral diastolic precessive flow
with diastatic and post-recessive health regenerate hearts,
and autonomic dipolar diastatic yang
through fully purged yin nurturing breath-flow function,
like a tornado of wind
in slow, sustained, self-regenerating inclusive pace
of gratitude for less bad attitude.
subliming Anger Management.
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016
Fantasy like Reality can be a disappointment...
Clearing the Air........
He worshipped her from afar...
He had since he was three..
He hid it well , no one knew...
She was his heart’s desire...
With her big bright eyes and her winning smile..
He never thought she would beguile...
Then he turned ten and it was clear..
It had been she who did inspire...
this young man ,with his heart on fire...
He arrived at seven in the morn...
To help prepare the feast de jour...
He stuffed the bird and chose to make..
Her favourite dessert...fresh Raspberry cake..
He feverishly cut and whipped and stirred..
Grandpa ‘s little helper was becoming quite the gourmet chef...
Then came the time to shower, and get dressed...
He chose his wardrobe carefully...
Making sure that he looked and smelled hmmm good....
She arrived and you could see him beaming proudly...
Everyone feasted on the bird and ate their fill...
He waited on her as I watched..
No one even blinked an eye..
They spoke for what seemed an eternity..
His face could be read for all to see...
Then out of the blue, she excused herself..
And went out on the patio to puff some stuff...
His face went white, I could see his plight..
She chose to be with others you see..
Who foolishly did an atrocity...
The one he worshiped from afar..
Went up in smoke...as she smoked her cigar...
Copyright © kj force | Year Posted 2013
Have you had your colonoscopy?
Your mammogram? Or hey –
Your stress test? Blood work? Body scan?
Get on it right away!
If you cannot relate to this,
Just wait a few quick years
For as you age, that youthful health
Dries up and disappears.
And then the testing days begin
So when you’re with your friends,
You’ll find your conversations
Follow healthcare’s latest trends.
When you are young, you think your youth
Will always be on hold.
It’s really quite surprising
How things change as you grow old.
Copyright © ilene bauer | Year Posted 2014
If you live very long
in this crazy old world
you are bound to do
several things you wish
you hadn't done or
didn't do and a few things
that was totally wrong
Copyright © william fox | Year Posted 2015
Which are your points for living
if we all die into cold leaky stink or ash anyway?
What's the point of dying
if we could otherwise live continuously?
Heading down the river
on AAA rite of ritual passage.
Six years since last I drove this way
not imagining this homing ritual
to drive again
with automating locamoting license
to ambulate for six more years
of what are my points for living thru
we all die anyway.
Last time I stood in line
to buy my laminated aging image
of ego's self-chauffeur,
family van driver
complete with wheelchairs
and alternatively designed adult strollers
strolling on toward sixty-four,
I was so sure fifty-eight
must be my last point of dying
to live no more than five more.
I was deadly tired of fighting
every air-born disaster.
My brilliant friends of young adulthood,
generation of young Aquarian post-anger management potential,
Whether their hearts still beat for more time
and we yet breathe Earth's air together,
or whether everless time
to laugh thru our points of dying
into otherwise life's discontinuous absence.
Alone we stand in that last license line
another anonymous generation
of those who will not rejoin our transmillennial lines,
wondering at this climatic mystery
of ever-vanishing life cycles,
after the last grandparent's child dies
siblings and cousins look about
furtively at each other,
over our shoulders,
take him, not me;
take me, not her,
waiting our turn to turn into pillars of dying salt.
Or, is there another chapter,
postscript of revolutionary eco-warrior proportion,
EarthTribe SuperLiving Hero?
I wonder as I wait
to review my new ancient-streaming vision,
remembering when my brother turned toward sixty-four
remembering this was our male year
of dying dad standing alone in his last license line.
He did not see sixty-five,
year of full socially retiring commodification
for those uniting states
of freedom's mythic evolutionary becoming,
reverse cultural face
of mutual enslavement
to cannibalistic ownership of minds
with humane-spirited bodies;
gardeners of social justice health
confused about where we lost our points thru living
as if dying to automate ego-ugly licenses,
carbon footprint excesses wiped on the backs of servitude,
hubris for yet more lines
with already too much space between;
I sleep amazed with wonders of dying points
toward life's more optimal unfolding,
readers writing more published nutritional words
than writers could ever possibly live wisely enough to read
with deep digestive wisdom.
I see a frail thinner sinner,
this new, still embryonically warm, face of Elder,
farming memories of HIV doctors
and earthy nurses
surprised about my winning age
as oldest survivor on their list
not yet deleted,
pointing to my living
as iconic of divinely graceful dying,
living thru and yet beyond my own AIDS EcoWarrior time,
beneficiary of unfathomable loss
of brilliant firey minds
with anciently plagued bodies,
Positive viral incubators
of Lose-to-Lose biochemistry,
anti-synergetic loss of life
thru ugly dis-eased dying
thru dark self-engagement
Driving back upriver,
against regeneration's need for fertile tides,
I wonder what I could fade into at seventy.
Would my automated license issue vaporous ghosts?
Or perhaps a host of memories
not imagined when sixty-four
raised so many points for dying
thru living poured out
warm embers lighting faces of love
along my way upriver
toward homes with mysteriously functional,
puzzlingly polycultural, families
surrounded by EarthTribe cousins
living and dying interdependently,
like trees shedding seeds
pointing toward next line's regenesis.
Which are my points for living,
those times I am dying to repeat?
What is my pointed dying
thru life's relicensed visits?
Arriving back in EarthTribe's Home
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016
She has become
Like a thin Chinese tea cup
Placed upon a large rock
She has become… fragile
Afraid to go anywhere
Least she break
She sits outside
When the weather is clear
Reading the same book
She has read for many years
Painfully turning the pages
With crooked fingers
I see her smile
As the lines on her face
Seem to multiply ten fold
While she tries to remember
Why she is smiling
When the cooler weather
Dances around her
She wears a long soft scarf
Wrapped many times
Around her neck
To keep the cold away
She will ask me
"When will my friends
Be coming by?"
And I sit next to her
Hold her hand
And say to her
Soon Grandma… soon
Copyright © CJ Krieger | Year Posted 2013
Mindbodies unfold from embryonic seed
toward full living-loving
sense-synthesizing leaf production,
full YangPower during warm light-drenched days of summer,
Earth’s rotation fuelling healthy growth,
yet weedy monopolizing tendencies as well.
Seed unfolding is our first longing half,
maturing toward healthy EarthTribe speciation,
in fullest life glory.
Our second half returns fading leaf powers
to regenerate next season’s healthy yin-seeds
for EarthTribe’s full forest embryonic memories,
folding out from winter through summer,
then refolding summer back toward yin-hibernating winter
of each perennial ringed life.
Folding in from political and economic production leaves
through symbiotic breath of maturity,
searching metaphysically exhaling iconic paths,
now imprinted with Earth’s nurturing light air,
inhaling and exhaling revolutionary fires of transubstantiation,
giving way to new fetal forests,
understories of regenerate future recreations.
This first half, unfolding,
needs nothing yet wants every source of digestible nutrition.
Then second half, productive leaves
giving way toward next generation’s seeds,
yet mysteriously needs this entire forest
to evolve belonging together;
mutual nurturance full-powered.
Each life’s premillennial unfolding seed
consumes energy toward maturing fullness
as postmillennial aging refolds balancing consumer-producer dancers
leafing leaping fertile enrichment,
Earth’s ecosystemic embryonic regenerators.
Basic Attendance shadows our co-present humane capacities
to know and love
how seeds and leaves
are both same and different
each moment of each unfolding/folding love,
synergetic political events, relational transactions,
nutrition-rooted economic trees
transforming yin seed into yang leaf
and back again,
ecosystem within as without iconic Earth.
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016
WAKE UP OUT OF BED
BODY GOES SNAP, CRACKLE AND POP
BUT AT LEAST I’M NOT DEAD
Copyright © RUDOLPH RINALDI | Year Posted 2016
Echoing whispers from the wall
I see time etched carefully so
Hard to believe it’s me at all
How I wish time would just slow
But it is the rewards of living
To be here with family and friends
The glad opportunity of giving
To people and the pets one tends
So go ahead and reflect my age
I have other things to focus on
Life’s a book with this open page
I’ll live my days ‘til they’re gone
One thing’s certain my mirror
You help retain a balanced life
To see time that is so dear
Reflecting whatever our strife
So thank you for showing the real
While I delve into other cares
Tis more important to truly feel
Than measure life through stares
Copyright © Susan Yantis | Year Posted 2016
I’m not an athlete although I love tennis,
I’ve flirted with fitness for most of my life,
Found rewards of a life that’s quite active are
Counterproductive to quality midlife.
The first problem is you’ve an imbecile’s view,
Little chance that you know the real consequence
Actions may have or the risks you are taking,
With doubt that your motives have logic or sense.
You should think of your body as delicate -
Injuries cured, still scars carried a lifetime,
While trophies you won are just yesterday’s news,
This is battle that needs shift of paradigm.
Bodies aren’t cars and spare parts aren’t de rigueur
And obvious thinking can still be untrue.
Though a high flying seed seems so beckoning
Don’t be seduced by dreams never thought through.
Approaching old age brought some bad health resolves
When I thought of new muscle as healthy points,
Simple decisions, to not run on pavement,
To swim in the future, thus saving my joints.
These half-truths cost me dearly as “fitness” led
Me by the nose, wrecking both aging shoulders,
With six months of quite painful rehab for each.
Is this something you want in your health folders?
Caution is frequently thrown to the wind when
We place too much faith in our most naive view,
I felt certain that swimming was gentle but
Life may have truths that we all undervalue.
Success is addictive and that did me in,
There is joy when your choice seems a blest affair,
Joints of a senior are not what my youth had
And rotator cuffs soon cried out for repair.
Moderation I guess is the sense shared here,
Foolish to count on the smile of just pure luck
For pride sets the stage for the mighty to fall
Unless you’re flattened first by a circus truck!
June 12, 2016
Copyright © Roof Missing | Year Posted 2016
memories do fade
park bench, sitting in the shade
with a hearing aid
Copyright © Joshua Adam | Year Posted 2010