Best Lifeage Poems
"Bore, Boredom" 2010
V. Ortiz Vazquez
Bore, boredom
How can it be?
Why at age 33?
What does it mean?
Surviving with a few “migajas del dia”
Not really living, just there
There
Bore, boredom
Few situations bring joy
Still secluded
Isolated
Not really living, just there
There
Bore, boredom
Moments of joy
Her and I
Written words
Visual inspiration
Joy
Bore, boredom
With occasional, polite, short conversations
Wondering when will it end
Looking around, searching for something more
Nothing
Once again trapped in the same routine
Why do I even try?
Bore, boredom
When it began?
Why can’t I shake it away?
People
People ever where
Yet, I don’t seek any pleasures from them
Her and I
Written words
Visual inspiration
Joy
Bore, boredom
When will you stop?
Why make my soul your home?
Yet, I don’t know if I can survive without you
Perhaps I can, but don’t know how anymore
Still secluded, isolated
Her and I
Written words
Visual inspiration
Moments of joy
A moment of joy at age 33
What happened to the early moments?
Where did they go?
How can I get them back?
History with many missing pieces
Nevertheless, don’t forget the present moments for they are the ones that count
Grasp them, snuggle with them, cherish them
Bore, boredom
Her and I
Written words
Visual inspiration
Moments of joy
The Age of Innocence
The age of innocence now far behind
The levels of love pass slowly by
The elusive joyous one to find
The drive diminishing to even try
Then a voice within cries out
This is not your time to despair
This is what it is all about
The love that teaches you to care
I do not understand this voice
I want, I need, I must receive!
In this there is no choice
I cannot accept this and believe
I am different from the rest
I have special needs to be fulfilled
I must be the one caressed
I must not give in or yield
To any voice that would demand
That I have not the love I desire
To have not these flames fanned
The flesh is what I strongly require
The flesh that will be my addiction
That comforts and elates
The constant need without restriction
To loyalty with mates
I must have these loving creatures
I cannot concern myself with lesser matters
I am not concerned with features
I am not concerned with a heart that shatters
This went on, such a frenzied life
Until the hearts that become the stone
That sharpens the love that cuts like a knife
Left me in pain, bleeding and all alone
The love I was addicted to
So fleeting and unfulfilling
Was not doing what it should do
And slowly I lost all feeling
I now began to look around
Suspended in time and space
Listening to life without a sound
With only myself to face
Then, as I trembled, a light revealed
The way to find love sublime
The many wounds can now be healed
As love flows outward time after time
There is a source to be found
The river of perfect love
That cannot by flesh be bound
The one that can only come from above
This is not my time to despair
This is what it is all about
The love that teaches me to care
And turn my life inside out
I still want the touch of a gentle hand
I desire the love but know
That love given without demand
Is the true direction of the flow
Now I have love without reservation
As the river washes away the fear
As it passes through me, in observation
I see the Age of Innocence very near.
When you're young you think it will last forever and a day.
The future is not in your plans, just today and getting your homework done.
waiting for the weekend and summer vacation.
After you're through school you go find yourself a job,
or college takes up your time, things have not changed, you
still wait for the weekend or your two week vacation.
Time is passing you by, but you're still not thinking of old age.
That is for other people, not for me.
Then for some marriage and a family comes along.
As you watch your kids grow up, you start to wonder,
man where have these years gone to.
As your children start getting ready to leave home
you wonder old age is not for me, I don't have time for it,
I'm still young yet.
Now that the kids have left home you tell your wife now we can
do want we want, now that the kids are not living at home anymore.
One day you look in the mirror and say who is that old guy?
Am I that old person that I have been saying I was not to become, but
am now.
The grandkids start coming along and you are so proud
it brings you so much joy every time they come over,
you finally retire so you can enjoy those beautiful grandchildren
even more, you have become that old person you didn't want to
become, but then you say to yourself,
it is not that bad of a deal,
having these little grand babies
here has made it all worth while
my life is not over, it is only
beginning, old age is not that bad.
Written 6-21-11
I have reached the stage,
That fails to amuse to me.
It is the beginning of old age,
Or so it seems to be.
Like many-I often think it is unfair,
That our youth goes by so fast.
Though I am fully aware,
That youth is not meant to last.
There are many that try to deny it,
But it happens to us all.
Once there--each one of us will admit,
It is youth we enthrall.
So many people say,
“You’re only as old as you feel”.
I say “if it would only stay”,
That would be a heck of a deal.
But within each passing year,
My youth continues to subside.
Until one day it will be crystal clear,
My old age will no longer be able to hide.
Happening almost over night,
Old age will attack.
And I will loose the fight,
Of trying to gain some youth back.
Sandcastles made by little ones
they`v been here since noon
children launch is ready..........
was the call that deserted these castles
looking at these beautiful buildings
thoughts starts flowing in.........
When i grow up, i`ll build a mansion
choice cars and choice girls
daddy you i `ll build a factory
mummy, a super-mart of popular demand
oh time, won`t you fly a bit fast
so age could make me old
Grown now am i, with this phrase in mind
oh how time flies, old with age
and nothing to show forth
don`t dream my dream...vain thinking
dream! do more than dream
plan! do more than plan
pray! do more than pray
work! do more than work
or your may end up saying, it`s daddy`s fault
Sweet,
bitter,
or in between.
Maybe a little of both.
Jeckle and hyde,
or more like
Jacklyn and Hilda,
split personalities,
I love em all,
big or small
red hair and all.
Women,
girls,
I love em all,
Mostly in between.
See,
I'm at twenty six,
fixed,
on older women
above age twenty three.
To me,
these are the ripening years,
when girls become women.
When what they want become
natural as spring water.
I have
tasted the juices
of many vintages.
Like a ripened wine.
Like a grape,
turned from sour to sweet.
like a mango mixed delicately
with a peach.
Older, mature woman
are what I fancy.
I compare to an exquisite
Cabernet,
Or
like the Martini's I drink dry.
Why do I like older women?
Why?
I have tried,
experimented with youth,
only to find an
abundance of
drama queen
feelings.
Wild emotions that flare
with each conversation,
with each vacation
I take to the pub,
or to the club.
Each accusation
is followed by my
truth.
Still,
she'll explode.
I then realize it is her
youth.
I love em all though,
all shapes, sizes
and creeds.
To satisfy my hunger,
to satisfy my needs.
Most times
I like my coffee black
sugar sweet
no cream.
I mix my
vanilla cappuccino,
her milk frothed
until she steams.
I think back,
remember,
this woman age
thirty nine.
She must have had the
ingredient to the fountain of youth.
In truth,
a pure "dime".
A dime piece,
slang,
for a magnificent woman,
a stunning woman.
She would take me to
unexpected feelings, places
buried deep inside my mind.
she was kind!
This beautiful woman,
age thirty nine....
Jared Pickett
4/28/07
Asavvy1
I ran after the balloon man, red, blue yellow and purple too.
I suddenly see the car bumper, which did turn my forehead blue.
Rushed in his car, I feel my mother’s warm hands, holding true.
Taken to the hospital, family, doctors and nurses having no clue,
X-rays taken watched day and night, I remember only a faint view.
At the age of five, the first and only memory of what or who.
Pictures of many things before that age, I have seen nothing I knew.
What happened, when my head hit that car, and what did I do.
Memories, before the age of five, taken that mid morning day, flew.
However, un-hurt in any other way, I continued and grew.
The memories I lost, I sometimes miss, but have since bid adieu.
Just maybe this happening was destiny, for my old mind to construe.
However long can feelings be pure?
How long we have endured to survive?
So much things we learn to adore
To only have so much left to die
Too much assumption became life we knew
Always too eager to judge before even an outcome
If to believe… will life we know to be real?
Must we all learn contentment if age shall run?
Some grew too old to embrace
Some too young to achieve lesser then to understand
With time… moments given to face
Will there always be a helping hand?
Irony endures… because we need people to judge
No matter age to even determine what’s left
A world left… building to leave only as such
Money’s worth… is it worthy for life’s theft?
Every one way… did we not seek out?
However long we have endured to survive….
Achievements abandon for tomorrow’s doubt
Did we ever have so much before to die…?