When I was a young man I dreamt a young man's dreams of bucolic fields and
mysterious streams
Those streams that would wisk me down to the sea.
There to board the ship that would carry me to far of lands and opportunity.
Now I am and old man and dream old man's dreams of the fire and hearth and
grandchildren's screams.
My ship now moored yet strains at the lines.
I hear her voice whisper come boy climb aboard let us journey one last time.
It was simpler when I was young
Hyper self and uncensored tongue
Mindful now of what I do
All my thoughts were of the one
A goal that never would be done
Until I no longer cared
Now I'm seventeen years of age
Nearly time to turn the page
And join the masses of the others
Still I pine for way back when
When my life had just began
Seventeen and wise as the elders
But those old days are gone
But those old days are gone
Come on back
I miss my best friend
the one that became my lover first.
I miss the late phone calls
I lost so much sleep.
Promises I some how knew you'd
not keep.
I miss my new family
The kids and your mom
All gone.
I miss the greatest thing I knew.
Hungry though
my blades are gone,
I had my sister rid me of them.
Where did that idea come from?
If only you knew what i'd give
If only you'd come back
to me, my dearest.
Stick around, you don't have to
know I will always want you.
I wish you knew I would love you
as
my old best friend.
Webs i've weaved, nothing but what
i've done and lost
stick and bleed.
This was never an intention.
Repulsive
Bloody
Craving
Repugnant
Hatred
It flows in my system, inside my
skin.
I want your taste back on my
lips...to stay.
I crave my old lover, need my best
friend. I'll still beg when I'm dead.
Antiquated, so outdated, old relic, dinasour. These things that I hate to admit, I can
relate to, oh such a bore. Old fossile, neanderthal, over the hill, wow this is overkill.
I'm out of style, way too many miles, sure do need a change.
Wonder where I can trade this old model in. Guess I'm out of luck, much to my
chagrin! I feel like Yoda, out of mode-a-joke to the younger folk. News flash for you,
I'm still cool, still got my hair, can still match your glare. Cheap sunglasses, six string
too, I'm still rockin, not hip-hoppin.
Watcha think about that~~~Get Back Jack~~~~
if by chance you watched rupey testify today
& you were in any way led to feel sorry for this
seemingly decrepit, senile &
vulnerable looking old tyrant who
babbled through the statement of his
“innocence,”
pausing after every other question to have it
repeated, as if he couldn’t hear it,
laughing like a stereotypical general store owner
in some canceled, black & white program from the
50’s,
while often allowing his son to answer for him,
as if he was not the “13th most powerful person in the world”
& “the 117th wealthiest,”
whose newspaper deleted voicemail messages left by family members
in the wake of a murdered 13 year old girl in order to get a
story---
well,
one can assume then that
you are the dumbest person alive &
you should be fed strained carrots for the rest of your life
through a feeding tube
while you
play with stuffed animals & eat ding dongs all day.
Then endless aroma of life is invigorating,
In it I find the strength to keep walking.
The aroma which surrounds old and young,
The one of which the old blue-jay once sung.
The aroma which fills every heart and spirit,
An aroma we all as newborns unknowingly inherit.
Every creature can sense the aroma within themselves,
From the beautiful rose to the dead tree on a shelf.
An aroma so vivid and visible in every smile,
Surrounding every inch, every foot and mile.
A power so great that it brings life to the dead,
The very same aroma which fills us all from feet to head.
What once was my
golden age of youth,
is now my sunset
years of old age.
Am I wiser now?
or just as foolish.
If I pass on what
I have learned
then this old life I
have lived,
was not lived
in vain.
Written 6-10-11
She looked in the mirror
and giggled with pleasure
to see that she wore
her old clothes from her teens.
But then she recalled
that she wore them in pregnancy -
laughing out loud,
she still loved her old jeans.
Jack Horne for Nette's 'It's in the Jeans.'
Ten little toes, precious and sweet.
Connected to, chubby one year old feet.
Running across, my freshly washed floors.
Muddy footprints that start at my door.
Ten little toes, painted hot pink,
from under the hem, they peek beneath.
As she stands barefoot in her moms dress,
in the mirror, a seven year old fashion success.
Ten little toes, steps into her gown.
So happy in love, her feet don't touch the ground.
Standing there waiting, for the first note,
shoes in one hand, the other, the vows that she wrote.
Ten little toes, a miracle to see,
connected to, chubby new born feet.
Soon to be running across my floors.
A Granddaughter carried, through my front door.
For the contest "Barefoot"
Sponsored by Francine Roberts
Placement: 2nd
mabe am a old hag
carry or old bag
you like shoes
that good new
you won't buy
i tell you no lie
am willing to sell
what you offer
don't ring abell
and that cool
am
JUST OLD NOT A FOOL
White nights, black days
Humanity as we know it, deceased?
Gods creatures have converted to greed
Strange days, stranger nights indeed
The day after holds only truth
The day before only lies
Oh, that good old American pride
Death is easy, it's harder to live
So let's stop taking revenge and start to forgive
Up in smoke, a ring of fire
Fortune and fame is society's desire
Money and morals start to collide
Oh, that good old American pride
Politician's filth, exploiters of the poor
Religions unite to help start a war
What if we had no religion to die for?
Why not hear the silent man's cry
Oh, that good old American pride
The painting's old and weather-worn beyond a time
I'd never know, and dust-lined
and bold. But still it's crude
how the oil paint collides with aging lines in an age-old taboo.
And daring me to find
a part too daring in something named divine,
and vivid in it's truth or steadfast with its lies.
A shameless sharing of life
that spreads a reality in color-sewn light
that's told her she's promiscuos, she's been kept in strife
to the old shadows of the night.
But here she is after all this time, a smile for all as she takes flight
unchanged. She's not aged
with the passage of judgement, and unshamed.
She stands erect, bare-chested and sure of her right
to be what she is. A woman that lived
with her quiet resistance. She lived to give
her quiet echo through the distance.
And now her pride could match a man's,
as she bears her breast and strokes her violin.
Old Oak Tree
When I was young
There was this old oak tree
In our front yard
Big as could be
Its limbs seemed to reach
Up to the sky
During Hide-go-seek
It’s where I would hide
But over the years
It seemed to lean too far
Towards the house
And towards dad’s car
Then one-day dad said
It had to go
All it would take
Is one good blow
He looked at mom
And said it all could be gone
It could take the house
The car, the barn
So they made a plan
To cut it down
This old oak tree
In this tired old town
I remember the day
It’s fresh in my mind
The last day on that tree
I would ever climb
When daddy cut it down
I never thought he would
How important it was to me
I thought he understood
I watched as it laid
On the ground
In thousands of pieces
It could be found
A little heart
As small as mine
Was caught up in
This sad time
Days when by
And maybe a few years
Time seemed to dry
All my tears
But to this day
I still miss that tree
And all the memories
That use to be
Now on that spot
Twenty years later
Stands a new oak tree
The Lord did favor
It grew up big
Bold and true
Just like the old oak tree
I once knew
If I were 10 years younger again, things would be different; fate would give me a second
chance. I really want to relive my early teenage years. If I were 13 years old again, I'd
also find true love somewhere in a suburban community, fall in love with the girl of my
choice, and experience positive things. I'd rather be a smart, talented, and athletic
thirteen-year-old young man than a loser with autism. I'd rather be one of those
free-spirited individuals than being imprisoned with a bunch of mindless Neanderthals.
Being 13 years old again will be the greatest time of my life, especially when it's like
going back to the 8th grade in middle school. The only reason why I really want to go back
to the beginning of my teenage years is so that I don't grow old and turn to dust. And if
there was a fountain of youth present, I'd use it go go back one decade and stay in my
early teens for the rest of my life. I'd really like to move on with my life, but I'm
afraid to die.
An old man sits on a churchyard bench
with his memories of times long ago.
When he was the Vicar of the church
and the people he’d come to know.
He recalls when he married a couple
on an almost perfect summer’s day.
And how with joy in their young faces
they knelt there before him to pray.
He remembers when he christened twins
who cried the whole ceremony through.
Their mother tried to keep them quiet
but there was nothing she could do.
The church would be full at Christmas
with people standing near the door.
He wondered why they all came
but then didn’t come any more.
And he still remembers the burial
of a young man who died in a car.
Taking his dangerous love of speed
so tragically, a little bit too far.
Near where he sits’ there’s a young boy
kneeling by his Grandmother’s grave.
It’s nearly dark , under a cold wintry sky,
and he’s not really feeling very brave.
The young boy stands with the old man
saying “Grandpa it’s time for us to go ”.
They walk off hand in hand together
on a path now sprinkled with snow.
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