I saw her in the marathon
She was limber and lithe and slim
Between mallards like a swan
I had the urge to show off, to win
She glided over the London route
Like water flowing around a stone
Like an ethereal tune from a flute
I passed her, and I ran alone.
I got to the ending tape
There was a man waiting with a kid
He hugged her out of shape
Because of the time she did
Then I realized I'd run the best
Even if I felt like a dupe
Chasing that wisp, I'd beaten the rest
Of the motley crew in my age group.
Around my neck, a medal for the course
The cameras clicked, people cheered
Newspapers said I was a dark horse
Out of nowhere, I had appeared.
I saw her walking toward the park
Her husband carrying her gear
She didn't know she’d been my spark
And suddenly my head was clear.
Oh, I saw her in the marathon
A silver stream for the duration
And now that breathless day is gone
I'll take the motivation.
She was a phantom in the crowd
A beautiful, fleeting sign
She made me run till I was proud
Until I crossed that finish line.
He’s different than the others that I once used to , talk to. He’s different in a way that has me wanting to. Know about him he’s very intelligent. He’s different a lot easier to talk to about, anything. He’s different and for once I’m not, feeling on the defense. He’s different a lot of, women would like him. He’s different like he’s, beyond real. In a sense he’s articulated. He talks to me like an equal person. He’s different from everyone else in his age group. He’s different. ????
Way back in 1983,
when I was just twenty-four you see,
very early in my career,
young, naïve, somewhat cavalier,
I wanted to buy a brand-new car,
something sporty, not some "boxcar".
Of course I had the money, the "dinero",
so I went out and bought a Chevy Camaro.
It was a 1983 Sport Coupe -
rather appropriate for my age group.
The color was diablo red,
and lemme tell ya! It sure turned heads!
Everywhere I went, that car got attention
and I won't deny it gave me an air of pretension.
Looking back, I suppose I was young and foolish
thinking that the car made me look coolish,
but that car was dependable
and took me where I needed to go,
whether on winding roads
or on the straight and narrow.
Now I have a treasury of memories:
its sounds, touches, and sights as well;
I still can remember that new-car smell.
Your first car is something you fondly remember,
forgetting the flaws, looking back on its splendor.
A young girl,
An old lady,
A mother of two,
A passionate dancer—
All were friends of mine.
Across the decades,
Through Chennai floods
And Hindi classes,
They stood with courage and quiet dedication.
Their words—scattered notes of inspiration,
Their choices—prompt, firm, and full of grace.
They stood as ideals—
In studies, in marriage,
In hobbies and in ageing gracefully.
Friends from every age group—
A potpourri of ideas, actions, and lived experiences.
Jolly days and radiant faces,
Deep talks and shared silences—
All in pursuit of a life
Guided by values,
Uplifted by love.
Friends, friends, friends—
Let’s carry on.
Celebrate with furry companions,
Wipe away tears,
Stand shoulder to shoulder, always.
In life’s long sail,
We brave the roughest tides,
And reach the distant coast—
Of course, with friends.
Friends are the spark,
The rhythm, the fire.
They are the heartbeat of joy,
The shower that soaks us
In all that makes life truly happy.
There once was a guy who crafted a poem;
it’s possible that you might even know him.
It seems that he had a way with the verse;
he wasn’t the best, but he wasn’t the worst.
They’d come in a flurry, the bad and the good;
he’d try to transcribe them as fast as he could.
Inevitably, there’d be a cessation;
it seems his muse would go on vacation.
It was times like these, when the words weren’t flowing,
he decided to try his hand at rowing.
With a handle and chain instead of an oar,
he got in good shape and built up his core.
With thousands of others, he entered a race,
and managed to snag an age group first place.
He thought maybe then that he might see his muse;
the subject of rowing perhaps could be used.
Return of the linguist: on fire, on fleek!
Alas, but instead, just the paddle-less creek.
Now bound and determined to settle a score,
he’s sulking and sculling towards some distant shore.
.
Eighteen
tuh
Eighty-eight
if i can't
walk'em
drag'em
*now 'fore y'all begin judgement, please read my write 12/7/23..
"Rusty boy toy"...young handsome tall men have tunz uv poetic thoughts
regard thoze age group women vide supra teach'n ourn man ;)...az for me,
i took notes... this one poetic note, vide supra, it's the promise; nothing
jocular about the thought, "unto death lover" ')
Chenille, my friend so dear,
Your beauty isn't only clear
Your homely appearance holds a light,
A beacon of beauty in the night.
Your personality is beautiful,
It's something that I can't forget.
Your hobbies of witnessing, I see,
Bring out the best in you and me.
FRIEND SO DEAR
SO DO CARE
ALWAYS
Your favorite place to go to is the street,
Where you find joy in the people you meet.
We have been friends for a year or more,
And I'm thankful for the friendship we store.
FRIEND SO DEAR
SO DO CARE
ALWAYS
Your age group may be adult, true,
But I'm glad I have a friend like you.
You're a companion and a friend,
And I hope our friendship never ends.
6/17/2023
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023?
I am no longer in my youth, it has flown the coop,
my bones, and joints won’t listen to my commands.
I spend most of my days picking up dog poop.
Don't get me wrong I'm happy to be in my age group,
I must admit I'm not fond of these wild grey strands.
I am no longer in my youth, it has flown the coop.
Sometimes I play bingo with an amazing silver troop,
but I miss dancing to live music and big bands.
I spend most of my days picking up dog poop.
Or talking to my friend Flo who gives me the scoop,
I long to take several trips to faraway lands.
I am no longer in my youth, it has flown the coop.
As I sit daydreaming, I snap to; hubby is a big snoop
What am I to do when life and age make demands?
I spend most of my days picking up dog poop.
In the end, I feel youthful although I can’t hula hoop,
I'm ok as I stare at these wrinkled old hands.
I am no longer in my youth, it has flown the coop,
I spend most of my day picking up dog poop.
05/4/2023
Contest: “Y” Challenge Words
Sponsor: Constance La France
I don’t let society define how old I must feel,
That decision is mine, how I see me.
As long as I can breath and do things for myself,
I am still young and in excellent health.
I wear any fashion trend that makes me feel good,
Although some people will say I must wear according my age group.
And don’t tell me, I am oblivious of getting old,
That is not your place to say, even if I get bald.
I will decide every year, if I add another year,
And is nothing to do with old age fear.
I will stay young and carefree,
When I look in the mirror and see me.
If you don’t like my style, you can disagree,
But at the end, I only have to please me.
Saw a poll today about World War Two
Seems 30% of Americans now question
Our fight against Adolf Hitler's drive for
World domination, for control of me and you
Age group 30-44 drove the results
How developed such a grievous insult
Could it possibly be
that our schools no longer teach
the truth about the 20th Century
Have our teachers turned so radical left
that of disgust for Adolf Hitler they are bereft
It's Memorial Day, 2021, to honor those who gave their lives ~
so that civilians would be free to promote this egregious, repulsive jive
Hey young fellow I have something to say
Soup isn't for the poor or for the rich, it's for the old, okay
If I'm hungry I'll just heat up a bowl of soup
You can eat it in any age group
Someone once told me that I could be burned
I didn't listen and man I learned
One day I couldn't find my last can
And I saw someone else cooking it in a pan
I flipped out and hit them with my cane
They yelled and said, "I was cooking it for you, are you insane?"
Soup had turned me against my own daughter
At the time I thought it was my wife and said she was getting hotter
She then left because she thought I was hitting on her
I don't think It would be wrong if I were
Well that's why soup is only for the old
I don't care if it's cold
Don't care if it has mold
I'm eating it anyway
That's all I have to say
we heard our parents
were afraid to deviate;
lost out own dreams fast.
Young ones of today
Grow up in virtual world;
our influence wanes.
we had listened then
we even tolerate now;
we a bridge age group.
happy that our young
fly on the wings of their dreams;
compensate for ours.
8.4.2015
For females over 40,
There’s a magazine called More.
At least that is the age group
It was first intended for.
So many periodicals
Are aimed at people younger.
This magazine was perfect
For that over-40 hunger.
In articles the focus was
On older women saying
That life can be fulfilling
Even when you’ve started graying.
There wasn’t much for 60’s plus
But still, they got some mention.
If younger women felt left out,
Well, that was the intention.
Then suddenly, I noticed
There had been a subtle shift
And older women seemed to get
An even shorter shrift.
For More now advertises
It’s for women 30 plus.
I looked for protests, but nobody
Seemed to make a fuss.
I’m sure the younger women
Have a lot of cash to spend
And so the “over-40” aim
Has sadly seen its end.
So let me raise my voice
For older folk and I’ll confess
That though I’ll still read More
I feel as if I’m getting Less!
I wasn’t young – but not that old
I looked down – my blood ran cold
I spied a single little hair
That yesterday just wasn’t there
I thought to show it to my mother
But thinking that just made me shudder
I don’t think she would understand
After all she’s not a man
I’d show it to the guys I know
But they’d just laugh so that’s no-go
I don’t want to wait till I get more
Though I’m sure there’s more in store
So I’m turning to my friends on Soup
At least those in my own age group
And hope that one of them will care
To hear about my grey chest hair
Mdailey 2/7/12
For Frank Herra's Coming of Age Contest
Homicides of young children
are solved more often
than any other age group, but after the age of ten
the chance of solving the crime drops by 25 percent.
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