Best Senescent Poems
To ignite a life
within an empty fireplace
where the glow of the flame
reigns supreme,
reminds me
of a life time,
born and death
so, it seems.
For when the flame dies
and to rake through the ashes
sends a shiver down one’s
senescent spine,
knowing that one
similar day,
those embers
akin to mine.
© Harry J Horsman 2018
Categories:
senescent, age,
Form:
Free verse
Bespangled
she sashays up the shore
from a sequin gowned sea
wearing the undulating waves
of aquamarine and ambrosial sheen
adorned with shimmering and shivering seeds of excitement
A thousand beaded fingertips
trace her coral curves
whispering sweet nothings
in the luscious language of brine and blue
drizzling down
her sea-salted soul-case
teasing and tempting
her cooled honeyed patina
to passionately impearled pertness
Enraptured as he is
enticed by her dreamscape
the yearning senescent sands sigh~
longing for relics of rose-water regrets.
Susan Ashley
February 8, 2017
~ Fourth Place ~
Premiere Contest: #400
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Categories:
senescent, desire, fantasy, imagery, loss,
Form:
Free verse
Winter's breath makes the willow weep with grief
for leaving her branches bare as frigid winds blow.
She cries for her leaves demise. Life was far too brief.
It's the season when sunlight casts a deep amber glow.
Ochre leaves have fallen to the ground without a sound,
landing in rivers and streams where icy waters flow.
Withered brown, they floated in swift currents til drowned.
I pitied them as Spring through Fall elapsed too fast.
The evolution of seasonal changes is quite profound.
I too, am senescent. Years of life have I amassed,
but do not etch my epitaph on death's granite stone.
I cling to life, and my demise has not yet been forecast.
When my season finally ends, I will not moan or groan.
Winter's frosted breath will not sever me from my limb
until there's been a ripe harvest of the seeds I've sown.
When my ears fail to hear, and my vision fades to dim.
I will give thanks that my life's cup was filled to the brim.
Categories:
senescent, winter,
Form:
Terza Rima
Ode to a pillow
Oh pillow ! Your dexterity astounds me
You bolster the head of the destitute and the deep-pocketed
The hangman and the internee
The blooming and the senescent
The caretaker and the tsar
The analphabetic and the scholar
Yet none could serene sleep savor
Except those with a clear conscience ardor.
Abdelwaheb Dhaou.
Categories:
senescent, sleep,
Form:
Rhyme
PLASTIC SURGERY
~~~~~
The now senescent sands, lost beauty,
suffering plastic surgery two tides a day.
Back when, the tides revealed its beauty.
Man, so remiss, it hasn't stayed that way.
Metaphorically speaking, as sand can't age
Biologically speaking, but its density,
It increases, and quickly when storms rage
From rock to mud, ongoing, relentlessly.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Re Susan's poem 'Chalice of Ambrosial Dreams', WHAT! were you thinking?
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/chalice_of_ambrosial_dreams_991815
Categories:
senescent, metaphor, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
I am a baby boomer, father fought in World War Two
As a teen graduated high school
Left home joined the service called branch Navy
Left joined in a conflict called Vietnam War
This day, today still don't know why we were fighting for
Now I'm old an elder man
\and I can tell all you young men, (something)
I'm a pathway of wisdom, history, knowledge have been to where you're going
As I continue to talk to you, you say I'm boring
You are trying to come where I am
you the man, and young woman children boys and girls
elder man bridges the generation
Of the stories that need to be seen and heard
Pathway of honor dawn, from places of my past
I can tell you things history is my are (it last)
Rather old past middle age later life elderly
1865 somewhat aged aging ancient geriatric long lived old older over the hill
Senescent senior un young a certain age this is what I say...
I'm a road way over depression I am a time a means spanning built over life
Young man time when I am
Youth haven't fully become an adult yet, period between childhood and maturity
What am (am) I gonna be now I can finally see the bridge the generations
Rashly existence between adolescence and maturity
Haven't been here on this earth long enough to see anything, not anything I go to the things of elders past
Bridges the generations
I now go to the elders for ally they know my future and my past
Nothing new under the sun
This is what they begun
Now I am an old an alderman and I can tell all the new young men
I'm a path way of winsome history knowledge and light
Pathway of honor drawn for this is right I can tell you his things
History his story is my age, the aged
Rather old past middle age later life elderly
Now I can finally see the bridge the generations
08/18/15
Submitted to
" UNO Poetry book Poetry to Bridge Generations Elder & Youth 2015"
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
Categories:
senescent, caregiving, celebrity, character, confusion,
Form:
Ballad
Autumn's breath makes the willow weep with grief,
for her leaves dangle as brisk winds begin to blow.
She cries for their demise, whose lives were too brief.
Fall is the season when sunlight casts an amber glow.
Ochre leaves fall sorrowfully from trees without a sound,
landing aground and in streams where cool waters flow.
Crimson and russet, some have withered and browned.
For them, Spring and Summer have elapsed far too fast.
The evolution of seasonal changes is quite profound.
I too, am senescent. Many years of life I've amassed,
but do not carve my epitaph upon a granite stone.
I still cling to life, and my demise has not been forecast.
When my season finally ends, I will not moan or groan.
Autumn's chill breath will not sever me from my limb
until there's been a harvest of all the seeds I've sown.
Even when my eyes fail and my vision grows dim,
I'll give thanks that my life's cup was filled to the brim.
July 14, 2022
Five Stanza Terza Rima Contest
Sponsored by L Milton Hankins
Categories:
senescent, autumn, feelings,
Form:
Terza Rima
I loathe shucking clothes,
(no matter eyes severely myopic)
in preparation for here goes
another warm shower quickly
relaxing this senescent
body ready to doze
soon after lathering
this blubbery body
most unwanted fat grows
on me, no matter healthy diet
of worms, or how I stand,
not so easy add a pose
zing losing battle – Mary Jo's
if and geeze us of bulge ill flattering
particularly quiverly, sans white
"WALL" tire tread fully goes
steely belted around lower
abdominal area like lava floes
siring unsightly expose
yore squishy Jew dish priestly
punchy,plasma paunchy, gristly...
pillow like marshmallows
fittingly, rotundly soundly
identical with other schlep
tin (tin tabulation) grungy hobos,
this lap pissed lard (lord) Who Lee
bemoaning, how ilk readily knows,
where unwanted bulky flab...
most detested - hence Corp Yule Lance
leaves noth thin to noblesse oblige,
know bull eats obese,
anorexia nervosa or chance
barking out orders reminiscent, when he
hapt tubby a caller at
weekly square and/or contra dance,
now requisitioned to insulate
and excessively enhance
body electric can be mushed
into likeness of fleshy France
or repurposed into expanse
resembling any country,
whose name Kants
be easily pronounced, and historical
events glommed together recognizable
as Ataturk with a lance
bequeathed to rule World advance
sing gluttony as his divine providence,
thus requires deep dish allegiance
(non - fiber - binding contract)
for eats and make decadent
every fleshpot gourmand
stretching cellular skein to capacitance
bestowing guaranteed deliverance
with their rolling
ballooning massive circumference
into orbit with Earthly moon officiant
eternal fondue irrelevance!
Categories:
senescent, age, beauty, clothes, funny,
Form:
Free verse
I'll make a way and seize the day
if only my heart would learn,
the morning dawns a canvas drawn
the hope for all we yearn.
Awake and shine
a sprightly twinkle
lingering round aging eyes
as seeds of joy furrowed in wrinkles
release the sorrows of sleepless night.
Back casts the image
A journey hardrock washed
a life bent senescent
of years best not forgot.
Weary legs lead the way
to pretty wild flowers scattering
Carpe Diem, let wisdom say
for that which youth is scavenging.
Smells and sights and sounds so ravishing
amble the aged called glory bound
prudence discovered mysteries foreshadowing
a time for the blessings I'd forgotten to count.
Categories:
senescent, age, flower, future, remember,
Form:
Rhyme
I chanced on him on my track to school
He was baronial and majestic as ever
Clothed in his outfit and elongated tunic
Clenching in his hand a printed work
The nugatory schoolboy in me promptly surfaced
As I proceeded towards his enclave vacillatingly
Intuited as if I was going to memorize my recitation
Was seized with an obstreperous panic
In his impeccable demeanor gently my face tapped
Unbridled my tongue and my odd reluctance unleashed
Stormed: "come on boy I won't your ears pull
Nor your butts with quivering hands spank"
"Spill the beans,voice what your spirit vexes"
This life uttered I diggs in prostrating me
Mankind's animosity does all over prevail
Besieges our souls and minds assails
He drew a lengthy whistling sigh as if to vindicate
The diagnosis of a proscribed insurrection
Instead gladden yourself to overhaul yours
And ahead your home with your broom sanitize
As a bonus for his judicious counsel
I offered escorting him to his fount
And for a while substitute his compliant cane
The road was brimmy with hollows and vehiculer conjested
"I have,asserted he,operated this road for decades
He has never stabbed me in the back nor beguiled
Subjected his grass,pebbles and panels to slave for me
Please,reconcile with yours,it is waxing harsher ! "
Categories:
senescent, memory,
Form:
Free verse
"For I, the LORD, love justice. I hate robbery and wrongdoing. I will faithfully reward my people for their suffering and make an everlasting covenant with them(Isaiah 61:8)
A life house in ruins
A broken down city shrieks
From womb to womb bleeds the son
Believers are born
God's wish fills the bluest air
Under the senescent sun
Love Justice - Poetry Contest
Sponsor Justin Bordner
15 January, 2015
Categories:
senescent, love,
Form:
Sedoka
Tis' life I bring to my garden gate
On a palette of colors by my front door
Each day I can play as I cultivate
Many blooms I have spawned as a grower
Many suns, many moons have sweated and swooned
In the coming and going of seasons
But now even more the old metaphor
Has me thinking of all the wrong reasons
For now as I gaze on the flowery state
The day has drawn long and lost its mettle
As the giving up of the ghost Gladiola's fate
And the rankled Rose is shedding its petals
The collapsing Chrysanthemum has irritated the Iris
While the perishing Peony has drawn to conclusion
The senescent Sunflower floundered its prowess
The tired Tiger Lily needs an infusion
Drooping Dahlias and doddering Daffodils
Are waning with dwindling demeanor
No enterprise or miracle can save them with sheer will
Their disposition will never be lusty or keener
It gives a small comfort though to know
That even if beauty fades with the turning of the seasons
It gathers in blossoms of the moments that in our hearts grow
And lasts as true love always fresh, ever pleasing
Tis life I bring to my garden gate
Each day I can play as I cultivate
On a palette of colors by my front door
Many blooms I have spawned as a grower
June 19, 2019
Categories:
senescent, allegory, appreciation, daffodils, death,
Form:
Light Verse
The Missing Season
27/07/2020
Whiffs of summery air grow startlingly unfresh
Dying like a withering dream yet almost deathless
Ruffled by an impasse of a senescent, uncrossable viaduct
that goes beyond my knowingness, beyond my conception
Of an unknown poison instilled merely into my air
Blossomless springs, rainless winters and sunless summers
Yet the missing season is still an untold story of a tired self
Trying to winterize itself for the soon-to-be winters ahead…
All of the un/randomness -of wintry possibilities- maddens
She, all the same, awaits for thousands of summers instead
Away from the insufferable stuffiness that strangulates her
She willingly remains afar yet unwillingly she goes further
Not in the dark does she detachedly dwell, nor in a beacon
In a semi-dark room of her own, she scatters her thoughts
to get drowned into their boundless, unfathomable oceans
toward the innerness of thoughts she steps back and forth.
Dreamless nights very drearily resemble her dreamy nights
Those of the dying birds. On her own she fancies the Quail
That reminds her of the once brawny nest by the mountain
One season with an orphic symbol is still forever unfindable
And the pretermitted leaves remain rigid though shriveled
Unwilling to be vulnerably wept, they embrace summertime
A summer of their own from the figment of their imagination
Softly it drizzles upon their souls, and again they are revived.
Categories:
senescent, change, confusion, destiny, seasons,
Form:
Free verse
Image by: Kimberlee Baxter
The nonpareil of a a violin plays late into a golden era
its "An Autumnal Farewell, by Debussy"
With magnificent beauty in dazzling colors of dying
she spindles and pivots in outer space flaring her
senescent brittle frills into thin air *
Unmasking after a long summer dream she drops from a tree
prepared for the deep mulch, free falling
she is beckoned to the ground without making a sound
Transcending a seasonal time she lives within my memory
this little leaf that clung to my childhood sapling;
Oh I remember many many things, but what I recall the most
is the way she trembled, just before the big fall.
Written by: Mystic Rose
Categories:
senescent, appreciation, art, music,
Form:
Free verse
I can't write nuttin' worth a damn on a full stomach!
Hunger pangs fuel mine poetic juices,
yours truly moost best be famished
resembling lovely bag of bones
beyond irreparable damage
wrought courtesy anorexia nervosa
nevertheless literary masterpieces
one written quick succession after another
profusely gushes forth
unstoppable tsunami surges rhythmically
metaphorically allowing,
enabling, and providing
voluminous water logged noggin
able, ready and willing
to burst infinite outpouring
at Möbius strip cerebral seams.
Hyperbole employed
regarding above attestation
regarding conducive bodily
state to whip out
acceptable, passable and
reasonable rhyming creation
to experience and
witness poetic emancipation,
whereby until the end
of time modest glorification
endowed upon me who
imbues vast majority inspiration
of contemporaries, plus unborn peoples...
imagine renowned said
author wannabe just for kicks
(sinks false teeth
into verboten rotten apple -
oohing and aahing yum zuck)
subsequently vicious rumor affecting
millions future generations
debauched learned primates
inescapably slide into behavioral mosh pit
analogous to eventual
senescent cellular detritus
sloughed off vis a vis keratinization
anyway figuratively swinging around
deftly cycling back thru
imaginary infinite jesting loop
unlikely neither chance fame nor fortune
promises me financial materialization,
nope, not even until hell freezes over,
nor when grim reaper feasts upon
*****sapiens obliteration
witnessing every flora and fauna
molecular repurposing quantification
simulates signifying universal recycling
umpteenth big bang occurrence
erasing all cosmic consciousness
nary trace left behind
encompassing collective satisfaction
since genesis wrought life forms
wherein primitive organisms
begot reproduction fast forward bajillion years
madding crowd punctuated
planet Earth avast urbanization
essentially branding oblate spheroid
viz totally tubular vinyl city westernization.
Categories:
senescent, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Free verse