WHEN I AM OLD
When I am old, turn into a lone log of dry wood,
mellow spring air won’t add gloss to the wrinkled skin.
The piling years would cloud the vision for good,
nothing would then come close in focus to be seen.
When I am old, turn into a crumpled mass of brittle leaf,
in the winds of harsh time would drift from place to place.
When familiar faces would turn away you wouldn’t know the grief
I’d suffer living a desolate life in the shadow of senile disgrace.
When I am old, in a frail rack turn into a coverless book,
in pale prints of brown pages the story of youth would fade away.
I would sit by the window at dusk but you wouldn’t even look,
my heart would silently break, not a word to you I’d say.
When I am old, look for the warm touch of empathy to hold,
don’t forsake me, give me your helping hands not so cold.
July 28. 2018
Contest : Any July, 2018 Poem
Sponsored by : Dear Heart a.k.a. Broken Wings
Categories:
coverless, analogy, depression, desire, old,
Form: Rhyme
the catholic nurse
all sensitive
caring noticing
everything
what can she think
of my hot/cold torment
always near blowing it
living in the fast lane
so friendly kind
the girls
dewy eyed
wanda abandoned me
bolton is in my hands
and yet my coldness
hurts
the more emotional
they stay
trying to find a reason
for my ice-like suspicion
fish eyes
coldly indifferent eyes
suspect everything that moves
socialising just to be loud
compensate for cold
lack of essential trust
warmth
i love them
despite myself
my desire to love
is unconscious and gigantesque
i never know
when i'm going to miss someone
strange coldness perplexing
i've got to work to get devotion
but once i get it
i really get people on my side
there are my people
who can survive
my shark-like coldness
and there are those
who want something
more personal
i can be very devoted to those
who can stay the course
my soul is aching
for an impartial love of people
i'm at war with myself.
("Strange Coldness Perplexing" was forged using notes scrawled onto seven sides of an ancient now coverless notebook sometime in the late 1980s, or early '90s).
Categories:
coverless, care, conflict, cool, england,
Form: Free verse
You’re skin and bones, chick.
Compassion commands me stop,
stare, on my path, where you sleep.
I see dryness, hear stillness, feel silence.
You’re skin and bones, chick.
Were your chirps for worms
silenced in unsound Mother’s ears?
Your wings, too weak,
too still, on your first, failed, flight?
Your plume-less limbs
Coverless in cold night?
Uncovered corpse, bony chick.
No shore water to wash away
your undug green grave
in a low, lonely juniper.
My eyes wash me in salt water.
I have a path; yours ends here
your bones sinking, my brain soaring.
Which frightened robin, fleeing my footsteps,
was your misguided mother? So unlike mine,
who saw her child, underfed, and said,
“You’re skin and bones, my chick.”
Categories:
coverless, analogy, bird, body, grave,
Form: Elegy
Naked as the day of my birth, I lay upon the floor
coverless and chill, eyes fluttering, closed, yet aware...
inwardly I stare, counting chest rises, in despair.
My fear of onward life is more than I can ignore.
Outside, a fluttering of wings seeking to explore,
the haunting howl of wolf, whose mating call taunts, beware,
both harbingers of death; I grasp with each breath of air,
sending scorching ripples through a shaking fearful core.
Moonlight cloaks my sentient form, and heaven guards my plight.
Covers tossed, comfort shorn, I search for ribald tales
to return to me a bit of warmth and playful light.
A hoot, a yip, a chirping melody, which prevails
reminding me of the paths beyond the pale that invite,
for I am just a dreamer tossed, on night's dark coat-tails.
Date: 9/26/12
Contest: Dreams
Categories:
coverless, imagination, me,
Form: Italian Sonnet
I'm having a very hard time without you
Please come home and sing to me
It's your voice that tends to soothe
Not your fading memory
I've put away my childish things
And righted every wrong
Carved your name into my brow
Then wove you into song
Come put your arms around me
I'm chilled like a coverless child
Hanging on the brink of doom
Stirred up like a river wild
So won't you darken my doorway
And eat here from my plate
Clothe yourself in my embrace
No longer make me wait
Categories:
coverless, angst, lost love,
Form: Rhyme
My moments seem so short
when I am up and about
my downtimes extended
with no relief in sight,
I thought I hid it well
showing only my smile.
But he glanced at me once
and read it in my eyes
like a coverless book
exposing its secrets.
How could he know it well
when it's mine and not his?
realizing my thought
he showed me his own pain.
The one that shed tears
the one that waits in the cold
the one that waits on the old
to smile in comprehension
and throw a word or two
for him to understand
that it is all shared
paths crossed..
then I knew
we were together
standing
with no space in between.
Categories:
coverless, upliftingme,
Form: Free verse