Best Old Love Poems
I move lightly at sixty,
a little less than the max.
Any faster, and the sunflower shells I spit
blow back in my face,
and any slower and the driver behind
becomes too distressed.
I move lightly at sixty,
homeward through the rural landscape,
past barns and combines,
engine humming, without straining,
secure that I need not be anywhere,
or anything, but myself.
I move lightly at sixty,
through the longer shadows of fall,
short days and warm afternoons,
trees variegated with the leafy
nostalgias of the year past,
and the years before.
I move lightly at sixty,
the old van's engine drones
as I "OM", indistinguishable
one from the other, both well worn,
and oblivious of the
years we show.
I move lightly at sixty,
no longer with a need to lie,
or prevaricate,
in love with every woman I see,
and no longer afraid
to say so.
I move lightly at sixty,
in love with the journey,
rather than the goal.
In love with the moment
rather than the hour and
the need to mark it.
I move lightly at sixty,
bemused by public anger over
a rappers words, knowing they
are far less harmful
than the blood shed
in my time.
I move lightly at sixty,
ready to gear down if necessary,
still able to speed up if needed
to avoid the hazards
of an overactive ego
and libido.
I move lightly at sixty,
content to be alone,
joyful to have company,
regretting neither,
thankful for old friends,
and old loves.
I move lightly at sixty,
finding that not acting,
is as important as the act,
knowing that one can be undone,
and the other, can't.
I move lightly at sixty,
like a comfortable breeze
on a fall day, a thermal for a bird,
uplift for a friend,
a drying wind for a
tearful cheek.
Our fire, which once shone brightly through the night,
whilst tempered by age, is no less warm
and still burns slow with cherry embers bright
to keep us safe and sheltered through life's storm.
Our light may dim, yet always kept its mark
though summer doldrums, winter's icy gale
to show our path and guide us through the dark
hold steadfast to our course let love prevail.
In time, our flame gave rise to three new sparks
to nurture, guide and teach of worldly ways
and then release to find their own true arcs
and bear this fire to yonder days.
Face lined, flesh soft, and hair now grey
together love we greet each coming day.
As the lovers begin to slowly slip
from each others tightly locked grip
out of each others arms they fall
into the public world and all
realizing exactly where they are
a busy station where trains go far
as one of them boards the dusty old train
Im sure I can feel their hurt and their pain
They really do look so much in love
as one of them places a bag up above
sits on down and looks outside
as the other looks on the old dusty ride
Soon the engines will have to start
as the train prepares ready to depart
their faces look like they belong
and being apart for them is wrong
Its too late now to change their mind
the trains pulling off and ones been left behind
I watch a tear as it leaves her eye
and she stands all alone and waves goodbye
Did I know this dissention might come to be?
Yes I was aware of its probability.
Did that make me any more prepared for the situation?
No I was not nor am I now.
I guess some things are best walked away from;
And you old love must be one of them.
In the hospital cafeteria an old man asked me to sit;
So I did and he talked about his wife dying.
Did somebody send me a vision of coming tomorrows?
Who knows but I can’t go on like this anymore.
I’ve injected, dissected and intertwined many angles;
But inevitably it seems to always come back to here.
As I slowly sink deeper into theses quagmire of depravation;
I seem to have worked my way down from hero to zero.
And my life is hell reflected in slow motion;
As I live out these many fractions of time.
And was it wrong to love you;
The answer escapes me.
And am I sorry now that I did?
I think sometimes I am.
Any ~~ old or recent~~ love poem... the most loving poem... you've ever written p.d.
Attraction Fate
The law of attraction, when two worlds embrace,
The soul inter action, you are drawn to this race,
You may not find it, in any old place,
But blunder you will, into sweet interface.
Unplanned, uncalled for collision of stars,
The right n the wrong, don’t defend who you are,
The pull of the tide, the cycle of moon,
The cycle of love, “will it’s“coming here soon,
Fate is your carriage, you can’t dodge the blow,
Winsome and perfect, best flower that grows,
Just let yourself go, other half of the coin,
So fitting together, how love is rejoined, at last….
I'd love you more than any
I had ever loved before
But never seeing you
Scared me even more
Your voice was never heard
Over the thoughts that I had read
Time just wouldn't wait around
For us to move ahead
And with time came another
Someone I never would have pondered
But with this one I've come to love
My heart wanders and looks above
Wondering if this is a mistake
The arrival of this new fate
For my heart yet turns
Mainly because you're who it yearns
Even though this may be true
My love for you would have never grew
But this one who has stolen my heart
Has given my love a new start
I ain't like nothing you ever heard before
I tell you what when I get done
we'll see if you still feel the same
know im known, you know i spread all my love around
and what you looking for drugs sorry i dont sell them
U know where im from we do it all different kind of ways
got some good friends still, then i got some old friends that aint worth a ****
even though they say old friends are gold
Well maybe if your an old friend of mine you could show me
then sliver is refined new friends come and shine their lights on my dark path
and they love me even though im a smart ass
so stick around hell it ain't hell
its a pretty nice town Hillsboro, Tx
Oh hold those doubts and false thoughts about me
down in the valley in the shadow of darkness
i walk with men, i talk with them
some fathers some a couple hardheads
but they all good men or they would'nt walk with me
we got a team boy we talking serious
we furious, you feel our spirits when we put your ass in mental check
On My Eighty Fifth Birthday
Another Birthday…I’m still alive
Never thought that I’d survive
To the ripe old age of Eighty Five!
But here I am…feisty still
Even though I’m over the hill!
Don’t count me out...Don’t ring that bell
I’m still here and raising hell!
Had a few blimps along the way
But I’m not leaving, I’m here to stay
Still have plans…I’m not done yet
I may do things I may regret
But I’ll have fun doing it
You can bet!
It matters not how old you are
You can dream your dream
Or follow your star
Your flesh may fail you
Your steps may be slow
More and more wrinkles start to show
But there is one thing I surely know
A man isn’t judged by how he looked
Or the size of his fortune or pocketbook
The greatest legacy he leaves behind
Isn’t intelligence or a fertile mind
But the love he gave to his family and friends
A heart full of love always transcends
Fame and fortune in the end
So Happy Birthday again to me
How many more…..?
We’ll just have to see
In the meantime friends
You’ll be hearing from me!
Copyright©2013 Beatrice Boyle
(All rights reserved)
Roses are red
Violets are blue
It's the same old poem
that means nothing to you.
I thought your love was strong.
I thought your love was true.
I guess you always thought
I would be your fool.
When I look back now
it hurts me to think
You stole my heart
with just a wink
I think of all the tears
wasted on you
I think of all the years
wasted on you
I am walking out the door
one last time
and one thing is for sure
it's about time
I want to thank you
for showing me
The woman in the mirror
I don't want to be
Goodbye to my old life
Hello to the new
There has got to be
a better man than you
So Roses are red
Violets are blue
this is my goodbye
from me to you.
One Saturday I went walking through the deep dark woods at night
It was clear and cool, the stars were out , the moon shone bright
I came upon a crooked tree , a haunted figure all alone
Twisted and bent ,fingers wide, stretching out to meet the sky
One finger pointing straight ahead to the old graveyard , It did not lie
The mossy stones faded and washed away , a haunted site , an old forgotten burial plot
Eerie echoes touched my ears , a deathly scream ,footsteps nearby, a hounds chilling reply
I passed over lifeless sandy ground forgotten from yesterdays barren lot
Silence ,sudden and deep moved through the woods as shadows danced and branches creaked
Panic overwhelmed as a frightening cold gripped my soul and I lay frozen, pinned to the ground
I can not move nor can I try to rise from this deathly spot of earth
Paralyzed by blinding fear, I felt another presence, foul and evil with no life there in front of me
Stalking my mind , clutching my soul .and I can do nothing but wait and see it take its toll
It saps my strength and drains my soul , it wants to see my vision die
I appeal to my inner self , my comfort and joy for strength to beat this foul thing
I felt the love deep within , bursting forth like a pure white light
Immediately its power lessened and onward I felt my love
It loosened its grip and I arose , determined to beat this demon with all my love
As I left this area I seemed to hear , a quiet whisper in my ear
I am still here waiting watching, stalking who ever comes to walk my woods
I am in your dreams , I live beyond the great black wall , come look for me if you dare
Grandma and Grandpa were swinging on the porch swing
Remembering some of the good old days and things
Grandma said, "Remember when our dates began"
"It was so sweet how you'd casually take my hand"
Grandpa smiled and said, "I remember it my dear"
Slipping his hand over hers both aged by the years
Feeling somewhat bolder, "Remember," she said,
"Pretending to whisper, you'd nibble my ear instead?"
He said,"I remember." then let go of her hand
When he headed to the door, she could not understand
"But why are you leaving now?", she asked him wide eyed
He said, "Sorry dear, but I left my teeth inside !"
My resurrection of the dead
Are old pictures and what she said
A silent echo and an image framed
The place for my love that bared her name
I meet her with tears instead of the smiles
Smiles are for the living inviting another smile
But tears are for giving they come from the heart
They tell me I loved her with every single part
My resurrection of the dead
Captures old memories inside my head
Those special moments when something was said
The falling in love and sharing a bed
I still have what death took away
Look at the bright side I was never betrayed
An over reaction of my imagination this may be
But her real resurrection is when I'm set free
What better way to spend a rainy afternoon in May,
Than with Grandma in her attic where precious memories lay.
This was her treasure trove, cherished things dear to her heart,
About which she reminisced with us, delightful tales to impart!
She cuddled her yellowed wedding gown with a far-away look in her eye,
And told of Grandpa's tender love for her with a wistful sigh.
From a trunk she took a photo of them taken on their wedding day.
Even from the misty past, deep and abiding love it did portray.
A faded photograph showed Grandpa, so very handsome and grand,
In the uniform of his country, that he volunteered to defend.
She showed us Grandpa's army uniform, pride swelled within her breast.
She shed a tear holding the flag, presented when he was laid to rest.
She fondled a gold pocket watch that she gave him as a bride.
It ran for nigh on sixty years, mysteriously stopping when he died.
With trembling lips she kissed a golden pendant and had this to say,
"It was given to me by your Grandpa on our blissful wedding day."
She played a waltz on the old Victrola and whirled about the room.
Her eyes shone so brightly and her face assumed a youthful bloom.
Grandma is united with Grandpa now, they've ended their earthly quest.
With their love and traditions, our family was truly, truly blessed!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 1 in Constance's "I Am Sending You A Gift Of Poetry, Dear Heart" Contest-Sep 10
Inspired by the poem "Old Trunk" written by Constance - A Rambling Poet
In old trunks and attics are stored many precious memories!
I'm sending you this, my gift of poetry, dear heart, from my trove of poems.
Midst the mulga and the gidyea out beyond the old Paroo
runs a road which leads to Yowah and a great place it is too.
Where the populace is smitten by an urge they can’t withstand:
Its the lust to find the queen of gems, beneath a timeless land.
With her tantalising beauty and her taunting, twinkling eyes,
Its the radiance of this desert child her lovers highly prize.
Suitors come from every walk of life, from countries quite diverse
and she keeps them courting tirelessly exacting quite a purse.
And the charm of her charisma casts a spell they can’t escape,
so they’ve built a little township there amid that red landscape.
Quite relentless is their quest to toil, a constant ritual,
and they love their leisure moments like their Opal Festival.
Chris and I were asked to join them and present our bush verse show
through the festival proceedings and replied, “We’d love to go.”
First we entertained the children at the school there for a spell
then our host, Gwen Burney, took us for a tour that went down well.
We were shown the local opal fields and dug for Yowah nuts,
then we lunched and watched some golfers sink some rather dubious putts.
But the opal bug had bitten and we sought a licence out,
for we planned to do some noodling or at least just poke about.
But the torture of the digging with just handpicks proved too tough
and we chucked the towel in quickly as we’d simply had enough.
Down in spirits we decided to search out the mulberry wine
there at Roy’s, not far from Gwen’s place, which was said to be real fine.
After scoffing down a sample we were feeling mighty good
and old Roy was sympathetic to our plight and understood.
He produced a bar and shovel and a bottle of his brew,
then we headed back to noodle with our outlook all anew.
Well we dug and sipped and dug and sipped, oblivious to pain
and the next two days we carried on and did it all again.
We were up each morning early and sat cracking all our nuts,
though our hands were full of blisters and a mass of little cuts.
We were both now surely smitten and could not resist her will,
for the bug had surely bitten and we talk about it still.
Yes, its tantalizing colour and its taunting texture’s fine
and we’re flamin' well addicted to Roy’s home-made mulberry wine.
The end of us breaks open both old and new cracks in my heart.
How come I couldn't see where my blind love would lead us,
Ending it again, you have, before our love could fully grow.
In the many, many years since I first fell in love with you,
Never did I think we'd find our love and then lose it.
Vanishing appears the only option left to me now,
Incredible loneliness once again my friend.
Surely God didn't intend our splitting?
Inside my heart you are big as ever.
But, I am a silly old romantic,
Long ago laden with love,
Ever waiting only for you.
Madness to love you?
About to find out.
Now I fade away.
Invisible...
Am I,
Me.
Going
Off
Now,
End.
10/06/12
Gone: breathless, cold, deceased, dead, departed, done, fallen, lifeless, lost, obsolete, vanished.
Invisible: concealed, discreet, hidden, inconspicuous, unnoticeable, unseen.