Best Grey Hairs Poems
I have just two grey hairs in my mustache
That keep growing back,under my nose
Why there's just two
I haven't a clue
Soon to be joined by many more,I suppose
They say grey hair grows with wisdom
But with just two hairs under my nose?
No matter what I do
They keep growing through
The beginning of wisdom for me,I suppose
Two grey hairs I've plucked and cut
From my mustache under my nose
For now there's just two
Soon to be joined by quite a few
A lesson learned in wisdom for me,I suppose
Dan Kearley:2-15-13
Whispers of Autumn
Whispers of wet winds on mellowing leaves
Herald coming of the autumn season,
Strip tress of their clothing, lead them to grieve
As swarms of swallows seek warmer regions.
The sky is oft spanned with gilded leaves in flight
Whirling with whispers of wild autumn winds
And coming to rest on the ground with fright
After their dance in the air with a swing.
Whispers of dry winds in autumn of life
Beckon grey hairs and wrinkles on the face,
Weather our strength as to tread we do strive
And as leaves, the ground we wish to embrace.
Whispers of autumn turn leaves yellowish
And curl human lives with season`s anguish.
Orchid buds are soaked in the stream alongside the hill,
Mud-free, among green pines the sandy path lies still,
In the nightfall drizzling cuckoo calls sound chill.
Who dare say that an old man can’t rejuvenate?
The river past the temple turns west in the ultimate,
Don’t sigh over the grey hairs and become a degenerate.
(tran.)
My love for grey hairs will not be slaughtered
I like the truth & more
The right to fall over head heels in love.
Following love in its lapses - I see enemies as threat.
Stirring love in a loving drum
Enemies stir it in havocs & death
Some counts love for elders as early death
I count love for grey hairs has long life & wishes
Some says it's powerful to grow grey hair
It takes many swords & ailments to swallow
Many hidden arrows & curses to digest
Grey hair is no child's play but dream
Grey hair is of two faces
One of the poor - a tinted one for the rich
Some says the throne of power is for grey hairs
It no child's seat - it a death trap filled with sacrifices of innocent bloods
Some times they're right - some times they're wrong
The enemy is always the one that agrees
Let me praise grey hairs often
So I may grow in peace
I love the grey hairs at my temples
and stretching down to touch
the wrinkle in my brow.
I love these soft hairs on my arms, my legs,
the little ones on my knuckles
and the tops of my toes.
I love, these last few years,
the tin rogue that grows
under my chin.
I love my grey hair. Of course I do!
This hair is my family's gift to me.
This brown hair is from Ireland and England.
This blonde part is from Norway, Germany too.
A bit of red from Scotland if you look closely
and every 64th strand or so,
a black Choctaw lock.
But this grey, I made.
This one is from working every day to build a life.
That one from trading sleep for singing lullabies.
I love my grey hair.
The colors, I was given, but this grey
is a washing away of my chromosomal text,
a step to the next stage.
It's the me that I freely show, proudly displayed. I love my grey hair.
What power within me! To color, to erase.
Stronger than the words I speak or the expressions on my face.
I love my grey hair.