New cracks in old stone
Just beginning to show,
Reveals things never shown
Things only one could know
Just beginning to show
A solid surface scrambles,
Things only one could know
Shedding into shambles
A solid surface scrambles
Every chisel brings a change,
Shedding into shambles
In time, it must arrange
Every chisel brings a change
Upon hard - headed rock,
In time, it must arrange
For none can beat the clock
Upon hard - headed rock
Reveals things never shown,
For none can beat the clock
New cracks in old stone.
Not all old people are wise.
Remember fools too grow old.
When little kids ask for stories
Regale them of our lore and its glories.
Listening with rapt notice
Tales of champions and menaces.
One and all exclaim with awe
Hearing about our Gods.
They don't die
Live within us and fly.
Burn like a phoenix
Survive with their tactics.
Look beyond the veil
When the fiercest quail.
Never lose their light
Even in the darkest of nights.
With a love so perfect
They attack and protect.
For the ones they care
Their souls laid bare.
Honor their word with pride
Till their last glide.
So hush, my child
Heed the noble and wild.
As all princes and peasants
knelt before our legends.
faded oil portraits
in gold patina frames
hide on gallery walls
It begins every day
with strange sounds I would say
rising up, to a mornings sun rays.
There is cracking and creaking
and parts even squeaking
strange music my bones seem to play.
There is moaning and groaning
the lack of my toning
I endeavor to changing my ways.
Rolling out of my rack
with a resounding big crack
'tis life getting old, I do say!
Aged man walks on the busy street
Beyond his ability to cross
Cane in hand, old friends he needs to meet
Delayed by rain, worried about loss
Earlier, he fell into a hole
Finding out he damaged his right leg
Good that he didn't hurt body whole
Heading to the market for an egg
In the dark of the night without light
Just then, he saw a mean dog and swayed
Knowing fully well the turn is tight
Lingering for a moment, dismayed
Managed to lose his footing on ground
Neck deep in marshy land off the road
On witnessing the scene the dog frowned
Prepared to attack but turned and slowed
Questions stormed the old man's fevered mind
Reminding him of his old weakness
Should he shout for help or wait to find
The dog's aggression or its meekness
Until the dog heard sounds of people
Viciously running towards the ditch
With clubs and sticks making it feeble
Xbox games came to mind was it dog, b tch?
Yet, whatever, it did not relent
Zeal is good, finally, it was bent
At last, he was saved from emboggment
But he never learned what was meant
mbfarookh
I felt like a book
very tired old and worn out
needing rest on shelf.
My wife and I proud of our luscious lawn,
Some mischievous children took a shortcut
Strode on the grass, each like an evil fawn,
We old couple could not the passage shut.
No doubt, we were thoroughly angry mad.
How dare these unruly brats spoil our grass?
For soon after school these young became bad,
Their footprints left an ugly midway pass.
Could we elders change to enjoy our green?
We filled the path with tiles, planted flowers.
Surely the verdant lawn would now look clean,
Bought a new bench where we could rest for hours.
The children grateful soon became our friends,
They ran errands for us to make amends.
The reference to my wife is fiction.
Old furniture thrown away,
hindrance in life.
We gave the best
teaching knowlege.
We sow in the rain,
we have drought
in the sunset.
They wend their way through Sunshine City
Cobblestoned, sloped, and Old World pretty;
And lined with colorful, homes in glad unity,
Streets linked heart to heart, in deep affinity.
Up one crooked path, and down to the river,
As rosy birds sing in green trees that quiver;
And soon arises pearl moon, a glowing sliver,
Making the roads to everywhere a bit clearer.
It sucks getting old wouldn't you say.
You wake up tired almost everyday.
Your joints hurt, your muscles ache.
Pills for arthritis you now have to take.
Your bones begin to creak and crack.
Can't stand up straight cuz
you're now a hunchback.
You sneeze and a little pee starts to seep.
Adult diapers are not very cheap.
A once kind mirror will now criticize,
With wrinkles and dark circles under your eyes.
A head full of hair that has now turned gray.
Great great grandchildren with whom you play.
I'd be the first one in to tell you the truth.
If there really was a fountain of youth.
Drag the old bones forward to the dock
Feel the cold wet bricks on weathered feet
Through holes in worn out leather shoes
Feel the brass handle of your crooked cane
Trembling to support your ancient footing
Through the fog there is nothing left to see
After 3:00 am darkness fills in as company
Wood planks come up from out of nowhere
Indicate you’ve reached your destination
Stand silent on the boardwalk by the bay
Hear the rippled waves touch the souls of rocks
One false step could land you in the drink
There is no end to what the waters depths might mean
If the tide rolls in it will return tomorrow
But tonight an old woman comes by
Taps you on the shoulder in surprise
If you turn and she has wrinkles, kiss her
Hold her hand and smile
Hope the dock supports your plan
Growing old is as they say a part of life
It can cause you strife
It can cause discourse
It can even cause remorse
Growing old can be a delight
That can have the wisdom to make things right
That can have some great reward
That can keep you moving forward
So, as they say a part of life is growing old
For all a story that will unfold
They ask me for no advice.
I have out aged them by fifty years.
I am not insulted
Remembering my own aversion to old people
It is not their fault I was assigned to their school.
They pretend to like me.
I am doubtful.
I used to despise old people
And now I am one.
I have never liked anything about old people.
I mean – ANYTHING.
They remind me of nursing homes and funeral homes.
Neither seem pleasurable.
I don’t even see my friends any more
They are too “old” for me
I keep getting younger and they
well…
they are just
old
scarecrow Joe is sliding off his pole
not enough cognition to fulfill his role
lost his balls and his jacks
to the ruthless Taliban
stumbling to Oz down a bloody brick road
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