I look at you, you look at me.
Are you what I could be,
If all my life I was set free?
Not altogether, you were lost.
It made me stronger, but at what cost?
I lost you in pieces here and there,
In winter frost, in summer glare,
In autumn fall, and spring clear.
I lost you in every season of every year,
Bit by bit, until you eventually disappear.
Little by little, another person was shaped.
Little by little, the old person was scraped.
The shell of a new person around was draped.
And when the shell was blown away,
Your real reflection there still lay.
No arguments would make it untrue.
By losing you, I was losing me too,
Because you were me and I was you.
I used to get a little bit misty-eyed
watching an old person hobbling along
toting an overweight gray muzzled dog.
Thinking what a tragedy it's going to be
when one of them leaves the other behind.
Now, I'm that old man hobbling along
toting an aged greyhound dog called Time.
Thinking what a tragedy it's going to be
when Time dog leaves me far, far behind.
Although the sky is cloudy, we have a clear direction,
We soar through the thick clouds or cloud disruption.
When the pure white clouds spread like a carpet,
We glide over them like seagulls in flight target.
It resembles the smoke of a steamboat,
The swirling cloud is approaching about.
I realized I had entered the West border,
Gazing intently at the shape of Earth order.
Everything looks even and featureless,
The gray steppe, the mountains, the winding dunes.
The ravines carve through relentless,
Like the wrinkles of an old person on Earth’s surface.
In the distance, a settlement waves,
Did the people there see us from the graves?
“I’ll be a pilot when I grow,” the boy dreams,
With that ambition, he set his sights!
No matter how vast the land may spread,
From the sky, it's just a palm instead.
When my feet touch the ground below,
I’ll be as small as that hand in tow!
HAZARD ON THE STREET
Lady really shouldn’t drive,
that old person, hair so white.
She doesn’t know what to do,
such a sad … pathetic sight!
Car horns blowing behind her,
she hears a man rant and rave.
“You shouldn’t be out driving,
you’ve got one foot … in the grave!”
I see why she’s annoying,
she seemed dangerous, too.
Wonder, does she live alone?
Does she have a me … or you?
Perhaps doesn’t have a choice,
when to doctor she must go.
Before you condemn this old soul,
think of elderly … you know.
Glance her way just once again,
put yourself in her sad seat.
One day we too may become
an old Hazard … on the Street!
March 2003
The days turn into night
how quickly they pass by
from day to day
then from year to year
time runs away
minutes that come and go
moments lost in time
how quickly they pass
as a young person
it seemed so long
as a old person
we wonder where it went
so as days turn into night
and minutes and hours pass by
remember time does slip away.
Years ago, once in a blue moon
You would hear about an
Old person being senile
It's known today as Alzheimer's
It takes over minds by force
And leave seniors vulnerable
To many people elderly is getting it
It didn't happen back in the days
So, why is it happening now
Makes you wonder, is something
In the food or the water you decide
Just like years ago, you never
Heard of diabetes, now most
Of the population in the world
Has it, again is it the food or the water
We are not a project or an experiment
Who writes poetry? What is the point?
I cannot explain; I am a doer, not a philosopher.
She badgers me. Who reads poetry?
Isn’t that for old people?
I am an old person; but I keep that quiet.
I do not spend sixty dollars on hair dye every ten days for nothing.
Not counting the three dollar spray my husband puts on my part.
To cover up my pure white hair.
Seriously, why would anyone waste their time?
She has a point; I may not have that much time left.
I excuse myself and go home to write.
I looked at the obituary,
Read the words inside
And did a double take about
The person who had died.
He was a famous chief of what
They call the Blackfeet Nation
And most revered for fighting for
His tribal preservation.
What caught my eye, though, was his name –
Earl Old Person. Who knew
When he was just a baby
That he’d live to 92?
It must have been confusing
And a trifle weird and wild
To be saddled with that name
When he was just a little child.
At least he did fulfill his quest
Of honor and acclaim,
Especially because he really
Lived up to his name.
LONELY ROOM
============
Lonely room,
May be,
In the sight of others.
Only I know
whether I am alone,
In the
Lonely room.
Many decades
The world took care of me,
In the name of-
Family, friends and associates.
Where are they now ?
No one is around,
No one to be seen,
In the
Lonely room.
Have I ever felt lonely?
No, never.
There is someone,
With me all the time.
Yes, the man who
created me
and cared for me,
He is with me.
In the
Lonely room
Not afraid to
stay alone?
No , why should I?
When I know
for sure,
my saviour is with
me all the time.
In the
Lonely room
Fear not child
He says.
for him I am still
a child - though
world sees me
as an old person.
You are in my hands
hold me and carry on.
In the
lonely room.
Sincere advice
to everyone,
In a lonely room.
Leave everything
In the hands of God.
Hold his hand tightly.
Trust him fully.
In the
Lonely room.
Sent from Yahoo Mail for iPad
Scorching sun reflect my face on thy water
Show what's in my lonely soul
Let the chapter of my sad moments unfold
Show the people that I am not bold
I was once green as grass but the poison has made me brown
Just like how ever old person was once young
My demon has age with me in this rundown town
Leaving nothing for me to claim but these memories that's fun
Not everyone wishes for you to stay around
Their are waiting for this curse to be undone
Thinking you are the problem when in yourselves it can be found
All these years of pain I could say had made me numb
Emotions aren't meant to be worn on your sleeve
Always let them believe what they want to believe
Strive for result not what are televised
Believe in yourself and you'll see changes
When my hair was blonde I did not see
I looked pretty close to age one hundred and three.
Why people crossed the street wherever I’d be
Was a complete utter consternation to me.
No one likes an old person in the USA.
They run from us all night and day.
My hair will never be blonde again.
Burgundy hair dye for me is a win.
Don't "dis" an old person for complaining of what ails them, for taking too much time or when toilet paper trails them. Don't "dis" an old person when their fingers are sticky from eating too much chocolate or when their breath is icky. Don't "dis" an old person for the way they dress, it may not be in season but their doing their best.Don't "dis" an old person for finishing your sentences, or always cutting corners to curb their expenses. Don't "dis" an old person. Please try not to offend, for they'll wallow in that memory and not accept amends. Don't "dis" an old person when their stuck in the past. They have a limited future and they know their days won't last. Don't "dis" an old person when their memories incorrect. They've weathered many of life's storms, so show them your respect. Don't "dis" an old person for perhaps some day soon, you will be that old person and will sing a different tune.
All Chevy drivers are dangerous; they cannot drive.
I search for a few minutes, finding the Chevy emblem.
Watch stealthily, sure enough he cuts in front of me.
Proving my theory.
Now I change my truth to all Missouri drivers are crazy.
I watch one do a crazy U-turn and add it to my schemata.
Drive a few more minutes. Decide all black cars have unfriendly drivers.
Must change this theory when I remember I am driving a black car.
Listen the radio a few minutes. Here an old person on there complaining.
Grouch. Grouch. Grouch. Gripe. Gripe. Grouch. Grouch. Grouch.
She has some kind of a weird accent.
My truth is now all people with accents are complainers.
My schemata is adding ideas all the time, sometimes adjusting.
A car cuts in front of me, almost causing me to wreck.@#%&*@#$#@@#$$%%
That must be a Chevy driver.
I race after him, honking and giving him the finger.
He looks back and returns the favor.
His car is a Ford.
Oh.
I slow down, drop back. Ford drivers are okay.
This must have been a one-time accident.
Meanwhile he has added this truth to his truth box.
Old ladies wearing red Kansas City Chiefs shirts are crazy.
Those dead minks with the holes where the eyes went
They were both eaten in closets in the sixties right?
Do you remember those moth balls and the hat boxes?
I am going through an old memory of grandma’s closet.
It was crazy dark back in there; it felt like mice were lurking.
I remember the old person smells of stinky perfume.
And grandpa’s cologne. We played under the racks.
It was a time of discovery; I was a pirate in there.
I miss this sometimes. My closet is not half as lovely.
I especially miss putting my fingers in and out of the eye holes
Of those stiff smelly dead minks with the fur that was molting.
Why she kept these I do not know. Possibly were her mother’s?
I am: A lady-My mama saw to that.
I am: An American- So proud of my nation.
I am: A widow- I buried two husbands.
I am: A mother. I bore three beautiful children.
I am: A grandma- I have six grand children.
I am: A great-grandma- I have 12 great-grandchildren.
I am: A great-great grandma.. I have seven great greats.
I am: A Christian.. My folks were believers.
I am: A Lutheran. Same church for fifty years..
I am: A church goer. I never miss a Sunday except now in pandemic.
I am: A gardener. Formerly vegetable. Now flowers.
I am: A garden club member from local to National level.
I am: A certified flower judge. For forty years.
I am A Washingtonian. I've lived here since 1943.
I am: A North Dakotan. Born and raised there.
I am: A rural resident. I live alone on my farm.
I am: An author. I have published a book of poems.
I am: A reader. I love books.
I am: A retired person after 30 years same job.
I am: An old person. I will be 102 on 7/7/20.
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