Best Middle Age Poems

In November I write of winter
  for I am weary of the old year and tired bones
I visualize all hardships blanketed with fresh snowfall
geese...

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Olive’s Cinnamon Bark

It took her some while to sense the meaning of feeling good in her skin

Her mirror her prism her mosaic glass and the...

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we just met
yet ... I know you
as myself, I know you
before now, before then, before time
bounding a meadow through the dew of eventide
careful business for...

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Change aint easy, 
lover and a hater times two.  
The quiet one, looking for psychedelic sound.
Who am I? The Borrower, weeping unanswered questions.
When you...

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"Listen to the wind, it talks. Listen to the silence, it speaks. Listen to your heart, it knows." - Native American Proverb

   ...

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Time Travel

From conception, into birth,
from childhood, into youth,
from youth, into a young adult
is but a short journey on a long pier

A time for learning /...

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Couples coming into prime
exhibit an exact prognosis;
passions working overtime
while seeking love in heavy doses.
Never being quite enough
to satisfy their youthful yearning;
time spent lying in the...

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Invisible ladies! You see them ev’rywhere,
In sensible raincoats and Margaret Thatcher hair.
Standing at bus-stops, watching the bus go by:
Waiting at crossings,
Letting the traffic splatter mud...

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The dervish whirls—
deserts fable
over candles,
atop mantle fires,
wings for life.

Salient, a moth
labors over no lands,
exists in The Great,
extends her wings 
to The Wide,
middle-age night

to flutter near...

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I've courted luck, in countless ways
      Against the ragged judgments and self-umbrage
        ...

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How many people with foreboding palpitations
have I seen slip from middle age and slide into old age?
They slither into their last refuge, the dirt hole,
and...

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With a single glance
I imagine a lifetime dance
The scent of you
the things we’ll do
Somehow it rings true
as I walk towards you

Those lips and brown eyes
Cause...

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It was not the sound of babies crying

Or anger,
fear
Old folks dourly discussing
Nor disputes,
debates
Strident voices of cussing

It was not the sound of children weeping

Or taunts,
doubts
Young people...

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Love inspissiated*
when she was tired of it.
It had run its course.
She wished she could send 
it back to the cleaners,
or whatever you do with
inspissiation.

It sounded...

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The Candles on the Birthday Cake
By Franklin Price
4/23/2019

The Candles on the birthday cake
One for each and every year
We light them just to blow them out
With...

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