IVs and deathbeds
Line up like grocery carts
In a parking lot
Pushing daises up
From deep below the Earth's crust
Unstable terrain
I see nothing in
Where darkness is musical
And leads me nowhere
I'm an old man now
Looking up at the youthful
Young whippersnappers
Celebrating life
Over a blanket of clouds
That I crawl upon
Celebrate all life
Under a blanket of clouds
Let's snuggle below
Oh, woe to Death's blade
That swipes away at my life
Cutting it too short
Translucent twilight
Where doves fly forever south
By the edge of land
Luminosity
Slowly dying with the Sun
Setting fire to rain
'Til death do us part
So, I whisper, "I love you"
Before I depart
In between circles
I dance to the rhythm's beat
Deep below flowers
A celebration
Where rainbows bend at my knee
Proposing new life
This looks like Blink’n Wink’n and Nod the old-timer said.
He was a lifelong reader, this guy we call Frankenstein Fred.
I thought it was Wink’n Blink’n and Sod, I said to rile him up.
He rolled his eyes at me and took a sip from his coffee cup.
He knew I was kidding, and that was okay because we are friends.
We are not into the fanciest expensive coffees with the crazy blends.
We are common people who remember faerie tales and radio.
Born in the fifties, we know how to not boast or show.
Blink’n Wink’n and Nod or Wink’n Blink’n and Sod, it matters not.
We have experience knowledge, much which cannot be taught.
We remember things like the Night Before Christmas, and other stuff.
And we gladly share it with young whippersnappers without any fuss.
I’m in my prime,
just now finding my steps,
working on all four cylinders,
I’m a pistol, as sharp as a pin.
I’m not Joe Biden
I look younger in aviators.
My teeth are brand new
and who needs hair plugs?
I’m a spry 71, almost limber
just a little less stiff than timber.
Mockingbirds wolf-whistle me
as I jump out from a bush
to force some sage advice
down some 50-something
whippersnappers throat.
"You will come to the grave in full vigor, Like the stacking of grain in its season.
— Job 5:26
Abraham breathed his last and died in a ripe old age, an old man and satisfied with life; and he was gathered to his people.
— Genesis 25:8
PARADE OF SILVER ROSES
Ripened with wrinkles and jowls of joy,
why cry over fallowed days,
when the brightness of youth
squeezes you tighter than foremost days.
Giggling, kicking at the mound of enjoyment,
the parade of silver roses laid at the grave —
that’s how the whippersnappers see you,
those tug-a-war children that hound at the heel
of your beloved grands of glockenspiel.
Supercilious satisfaction as you tether your cane
to tenderness and affection, aggressively pointing
only at those crooks who choose to lambast insane,
ruin your days and keep at arm's length the babes.
Silver in your hair, spun by hands with stigmata holes,
and you’ll breathe your last and first breath all the same.
With seasoned wheat, such golden beauty,
ecstatic at heaven’s attraction, standing in frame.
3/9/2020
Deanna likes her old fashion pink plastic snap curlers.
Has brought them to Ethyl at the beauty shop since 1968.
Hair has survived fifty-one years of the same style
Unfortunately, when she gets there she is told Ethyl has passed.
She trusts none of these other whippersnappers.
What would they know about pink snap curlers?
She doubts they could pop them together, let alone brush her out.
Teasing is probably something they have never been taught.
What about the special cans of hairspray Ethyl keeps for her?
“I can do it, Miss Deanna,” one of the young ones says.
She shakes her head sadly.
She did not even get here until about twenty-five years ago.
What would she know about it?
She leaves clutching her pink snap curlers, angry at Ethyl for dying.
This is her third bad experience this week.
What is up with all these seventy year olds?
What is this need they have to die?
Congratulations! You've now lived
a full half-century.
I'll bet you're asking, "What's in store?
What changes will I see?"
As one well past her fiftieth,
I know a thing or two.
Sit back, relax, and listen up
as I enlighten you.
First, you'll become quite popular.
Six times a month you'll see
a letter from a stalker with
the name AARP.
Your inbox messages will urge
you, "Buy Depends on Sale.”
“Our Vitamins for Fifty-Plus
are must-haves.” “Please don't fail
to buy more insurance today--
life, cancer, burial."
"At Shady Lane retirees have
a life content and full."
You'll find some younger people think
that fifty's ELDERLY!
Ignore those whippersnappers. Just
how clueless can they be?
June 22, 2019, entered in Emile Pinet's Contest on Aging
February 19, 2020, entered in Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer's Occasional
Poetry contest
Up bright and early at the crack of dawn
Seems that's been my routine forever
Don't wanna waste a single damn moment
Don't wanna miss a single thing ever
Time seems forever when we're wee folks
Old age is a bunch of decades away
Then all of a sudden it jumps up and bites us
Celebrated your 60th birthday today
Talk about the years literally flying by
Seems like they're in overdrive they do
Here's some news you young whippersnappers
Soon be waving your young life, adieu
Sure didn't start out to write a downer
Guess my age is starting to catch up
Usually, I'm over the top with the happy stuff
So back to wagging my tail like a pup!
I hate bad drivers and young whippersnappers
Who ignore old Bing and choose Gangsta Rappers.
The lack of good manners in young and old too
Makes me shake my grey head and wonder just who
Began this thought that the whole world starts with me -
While no one owes them a thing - far as I can see.
I dislike protestors who ignore the facts,
And push some idea while the truth it lacks -
Mostly I dislike those of this world who treat
Lady Liberty like a whore in the street -
Some would take all that the kind Lady offers,
And steal with both hands from her hard earned coffers.
Still she's a battle hardened lady, my friend,
No doubt she'll shrug it off and smile in the end.
5-5-18
For contest Rant for Shadow Hamilton
Look at all these cows that's runnin' free
You gotta stop sayin' OMG
Get around that group and head 'em South
Quit mumblin' LOL - shut your mouth
That bull you thought was your BFF
Is headed West 'less you turn him left
BTW that fence they broke
Comes outta your pay and that's no joke
If you say LMAO again
I'll plant this fist up beside your chin
Dang this group of whippersnappers
Dropped Willie for somethin' called Rappers
Put down that phone my young cowboy friend
Here comes the bossman around that bend
When he sees his cows are on the loose
He'll say WTF and cook your goose.
5-5-18
Now listen to me, you young whippersnappers
Got decades of experience in all worldly matters
Like the theory of relativity
Or keeping girlies in captivity
Just the thought of it leaves my jockeys in tatters
I’m tempted to backhand the ones who call
us sixty-somethings old or elderly.
How dare they use such terms describing me?
Infuriating! Boy, do they have gall!
It’s fine to be solicitous and hold
the door—to be polite, but not for fear
that I’m about to croak and Death lurks near
to claim another oldster for his fold.
Now, whippersnappers, I was once like you,
misusing terms of age, as did my peers.
Our ignorance caused us to be unkind!
The elderly are ninety-somethings who
have been on Medicare for thirty years.
You would do well to keep that fact in mind!
February 23, 2018, entered in Robert Haigh's Make Me Laugh Contest
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