Written: January 23, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Regina Mcintosh
"There are twilight times when only the moon will muse on my misery." By POET.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Shadowy stillness does embrace
Showing the town such a showplace
People are fully dressed for sleep
Love aching is a wound so deep
The trees that line the waterway
In morning softness, gentle sway
She has no will but pain and weep
Love aching is a wound so deep
A painter shares his scene with care
Each moment bears a love affair
Regain some bliss others keep
Love aching is a wound so deep
The river's voice is full of pain
Gorged in tremulous skeins of rain
With love, its beauty holds a heap
As it flows onward to the sweep
Love casts a moon hush in the gloom
Seraph love time starts to assume
The moon shone down a hillock steep
Love aching is a wound so deep
Soft t-shirts, warm flannels, easy to step into
Cozy fleece, light cotton, stretchy elastic waistbands
Comfy nightgowns, flowered pajamas, and a mumu
Retirement encourages a new way to dress
Comfort over class, coziness over chic
Fashion is over the hill now
I live in the country
The only ones who see me are my husband and my dogs
Over the hill,
Sending light your way,
A new day breaks,
To rise up and say,
I've battled so much,
Sometimes lost my way,
But my past does not define,
Who I am today.
Over the hill,
Sending hope your way,
Remember your strength,
As you take on today,
It's onwards and upwards,
So come what may,
You have what it takes,
Nothing can get in your way.
Over the hill,
Sending strength your way,
You are more than deserving,
Of a bright and happy day,
No matter what you face,
Remember there's always a way,
Hang on in there and battle through,
Brighter days are not that far away.
And then I seen it, whilst looking down from a high
A peaceful uniform land, where residents don’t cry
Equal to all, perhaps finely embellished with love
Diagonal lines appear, as I descend from above
People stand about randomly, in a mysterious world
As this endless field of monoliths, now slowly unfurls
Only place where nobody, yet everybody gets along
It’s not utopia, but could well be, when we’re gone
A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE
Sponsored by Brian Strand
06/01/22
When you reach that over-the-hill age
And probably nearing that very last stage
To prevent causing harm
Bystanders are alarmed
Tripping them as others stand by and gape
Nothing more tragic or comical, than to think life ends at fifty.
So terribly brainwashed...really!
A sag here, a wrinkle there, proves you lived a long life.
To an old dame, like me, I celebrate life, it's beautiful and nifty.
The mirror reflects the outer you, not a big deal, really.
Unless you are drunk on your body, poor you, strutting about
conceitedly!
So what have you done for someone else today?
Have you made a difference to someone in any way, or areyou
running to the store for yet another jar of Oil of Olay?
If all we are is our bodies, a very sad state of affairs.
Let's get off the "gotta be young train" and instead grow
truly, spiritual and compassionate brains!
June 10, 2020
9:30 pm PST
Poem # 1,233
The hill is not high,
Maybe 200 feet – high enough.
It is a swath of ascending greenery
Just a few small boulders,
some low shrubs.
At the top we are panting;
an old man and his old dog.
Nevertheless I feel great,
I shout in a weak voice,
shout at the sky, glad to be here.
My dog tugs at his leash.
He wants to go down the other side of the hill,
but not I.
We both trot back the way we came up.
I just didn’t want
to end up further over the hill,
lower
than where I had started.
Hate it when people say I'm “over the hill”
Haven't reached the hill yet, age is just a matter of will
Like mind over matter
Don't be a mad hatter
Just skip, jump and sing ditties bout love and roadkill
We’re born explorers
Eager to grow
Balance the borders
Go with the flow
Untouched, untainted
Unacquainted with time
Yet to be painted
A wide open mind
Our canvas’ bare
Possibilities, endless
Play without care
Virtually, senseless
But then, a swift shift
Abrupt and unforeseen
Leaves us quite miffed
Awoken from a dream
Puzzled by distortion
Vexed by sheer shock
Struggle through absorption
We plead for it to stop
But the ship has sailed
There’s no turning back
Our efforts failed
Just like that
Hate it when people say I'm 'over the hill'
Haven't reached the hill yet, age is just a matter of will
Like mind over matter
Don't be a mad hatter
Just skip, jump and sing ditties about love and roadkill
I'm Over the Hill (Again)
Life's such an adventure, both rise, and descent,
And the people we meet, serve to color the landscape,
Though knowledge is ethereal, failure life's rent.
The soul's end is uncertain, but living escape!
Life's joys and its problems are art that we paint
On rich canvas saints ponder if souls are persisting,
If not, does it serve us to raise a complaint?
But can death claim a victory that's just a sting?
Does reaching hill's bottom serve less than its top?
Aren't both states less an ending and more just a passage?
What journey's begun whose first step is a flop
Or a win where your path does not gain from friend's nudge?
Let me love each journey that God might provide
And then plumb nooks and crannies that cry out for access,
Smear fruit of whatever my muse may decide
Serves the dreams God might have of a pilgrim's success!
Is death one more journey whose end no one's found,
One with rest stops and pitfalls? Though some raise an outcry,
May rainbow, God's promise (when rain pelts the ground)
Be the star my ark steers by till all tears run dry.
Long Tooth
March 15, 2019
Really hate it when people say I'm “over the hill”
Haven't reached the hill, age is just a matter of will
Like mind over matter
Don't be a mad hatter
Just skip, jump and sing ditties bout love and roadkill
I never realized how fast I was climbing
Till the day I stepped over the hill
Where now I find I'm slipping and sliding
All of this against my will
Gray haired and clearly out of energy
I can't see my way back to the top
I'd heard of over the hill but still
Wasn't expecting this quick of a drop
M-orning light in the sky
O-bliterates the gray;
N-ew dawn is breaking
D-ecember first early day.
B-right light in the sky
U-ses the crimson ray;
E-ver wonderful beacon
M-akes the night fade away.
I-n the blue heaven above, raindrops never fall;
A-ll clouds are in white, all over the hill so tall.
Age fifty comes and you thought forty bad?
Some little aches and pains will start to fill
your weary body, but don’t be too sad,
for you can say you got up to that hill
and over it! And what a thrill it was!
Now sixty comes along and oh, what fun!
You get to study medicine because
diseases you’d not heard of have begun
to plague you from your head down to your toes.
You have to be content with salads or
face diabetes, and what else? Who knows!
Mid-sixties you’ll learn what retirement’s for.
It’s time to change your ways or even worse,
by seventy you’ll end up in a hearse
For Sara Kendrick's "Which Of The Four Would You Choose" Contest!
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