Best White Haired Poems

T'were the night after Christmas, 'n' the house was all dark.
Not much money for 'lectric in the ol' trailer park.
Ma waitin' tables at the club on the base,
jist me and my sisters alone in the place.

A big ol' blue norther, t'were a hard winter storm.
We's...

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The evening is set out before me

   on the threshold of night,

   the hazy lights teeming

   and glazed, webby-cold ----

   bright with a white-haired curiosity;

What good honesty can bring,

   observing reckonings and episodes

  ...

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My teeth have gotten crooked.
My eyes sport puffy bags.
My lashes lost their lushness
And my neck, once taut, now sags.

My wrinkles now have cousins
Come to line my washed-out skin,
But it isn’t any mirror that
Reveals the shape I’m in.

For that white-haired older lady,
Peering back across the room,
Is...

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From my lowly bachelor’s house
Proudly christened ‘Embassy Fair’
I woke up to the chirping of birds
On the trees above and across the vale
And the riverine bushes in-between
I woke up to the crowing of cocks
And the mooing of cows
I woke up to the leaping of calves
And the...

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I took my four year old one time to a July fourth parade
We found a place that offered us a little bit of shade
Sitting there close by to us was a white haired older man
His eyes were fixed on something as the parading soon began

My...

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Poetry is... Art
       by Amy Swanson



Poetry comes in all

shapes
sizes
colors
surprises
varieties
lengths
flavors
styles


About all kinds of

feelings
thoughts
emotions
moods
people
foods
societies
animals
nature


It can be

long
short
rhyme
prose
haiku
quatrain
free verse
narrative
sonnet
footle
senryu
tanka
epulaeryu
.... and so many more-!


Poetry's authors are

from everywhere
all ethnicities
women
men
girls
boys
young
old
adults
kids
tall
short
thin
heavy
average
brunette
redhead
blonde
raven-haired
white-haired
gray-haired
or even no-haired


Poetry is 


abstract
            ...

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Could it be that two city streets meet at a portal
of awakening that leads to enlightenment?
May your next frontier be "Inter-Be" discovery.

Nearly forty years ago on July twenty-fifth,
working in the center city of Philadelphia
I was walking to make a noon business meeting
and noticed a hippie...

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Who was this white haired Claus 
With rabbit teeth? 
Carrying a ton of peanuts 
For all to eat.

Dragged in a sleigh pulled 
By Agnew and Nixon, 
Who ran right beside 
Donnar and Blitzen? 

He circled Camp David, 
A fast fly by; 
With lox and bagels...

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He sat on the bench
Watching the snow fall.
His snow white hair blending
Together with the snowflakes.
Wings stretched from his back.
They were the shape of a bird’s and had white feathers.
He closed his eyes, letting the snow fall on his face.
Enchanting, though no one could see.
Not the...

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Very few really tender moments
in my childhood do I find.
My memories abound
with normal things, and also
with happy celebrations,
failures and successes,
good times and bad.

But I recall one day
visiting a man from church.
Inside his small apartment 
my mother took me.
I can’t remember why.
I just recall this elderly...

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Five gray, silver, and white haired crones
Navigated slimy green stones
Like tight rope walkers
Having been summoned by the wind talkers
They crossed a shallow creek
Each feeble and weak
They entered consecrated woods
Wearing cloaks and hoods
Upon awareness of being pursued
Their minds were filled with frantic thoughts of how to...

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Ama you are a father 
Father my father
Whose basket of fishes
Sweetened my mother’s dishes
Whose naked feet danced
The jungle drum you drummed.

I remember
Father I still remember
Those joyous days
When like brooding hens
You employed your hands
To shield the offsprings
Those several bodies
O! the little bodies
That clung to your bare...

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Barcelona looked like a church 
as I walked down La Rambla
in search of a vacant room 
on that warm morning.
The balconies of the flanking 
high-rise apartments were pews
festooned with holy day
football flags and bedsheets.
The white haired flower seller 
sat silently with his serrated scissors 
and...

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In a house high on a hill an old man grows weak, many years have gone, he lays in his old bed,
Back in the day, a dashing young officer with a brilliant red uniform he had many girlfriends,
Flowers scattered across the mead's and meadows the...

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What a sad day 
No more Easter bunny
I don't mean to laugh
But some tales are funny

I think in the end
It's really his fault
you would never guess
Who was locked in his vault

The bunny was Jealous 
Of jolly old Saint Nick
He felt like second fiddle
To a jolly...

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