Remember when, as kids
We just ran and ran
For the sheer joy of it
For the rush of it
Dashing and racing to the next adventure
No time to waste
And energy to burn
Running and running
And never seeming to ache
Barely panting
Hardly sweating
And always ready
To run

And now I'm running to stand still

                           By Phil Roberts

No matter the amount
Of time or distance
Between us
Will change how close
I am to you

When I hear your voice
Or think of you
It closes the gap
And puts you right next to me

No amount of time or distance
Will change how I feel about you
Because you are always in my heart

(a repost from October,2015)

I know I'm what is called,"an old fogey."
(I prefer "Elder")
Can't help it, age dictates it.
It happens, and will happen, to most of us,
For time runs faster than we do.

I find myself reflecting on "what used to be"-
instead of "what is", "what could be", or "should be"-
"Good times, bad times", all part of living,
in an ever-changing world.

Priorities change....... daily-
Attitudes change...... daily

What we want today,
we discard tomorrow-
"What is", becomes "So what!"
"Unification", has become obsolete!''

A different work ethic..... born!

The "Rally Cry!"...
"All for one, and all for "ME!"
has become the norm........

We will answer for it................

some day!.....


copyright: richard riddle October 13, 2015

Coughing like a cold start
Wheezing like a bag
Spitting through the back door
Have another ***
Doing the dying thing

Filling up an ash-tray
Feeding a fat face
Drinking cans of lager
Getting in a state
Doing the dying thing

Reading ****** papers
**** and bingo cards
Have another lager
Another pound of lard
Doing the dying thing

Sitting watching game shows
Rattling paper bags
Looking bored and farting
How the sofa sags
Doing the dying thing

Working for a *******
For very little pay
Yes boss and no boss
For eight hours a day
Doing the dying thing

Safely empty headed
Dull of thought and eye
Ignorant and vacant
There are many ways to die
Doing the dying thing

                                       By Phil Roberts

Now that I've lived all these years
And experienced so many things
With my march to Oldfartdom
On it's inexorable way
I've been thinking about the things I've learned
Perhaps to pass on to others

Well.......
It's like this
Life is wonderful
And life is ******
Love is elating
Love is devastating
Birth is a true miracle
Being a parent is scary
Money is a blessing
Whilst wealth is a curse
So......
What do I know?

                              By Phil Roberts

In little over two years
I have had more scans
Than a supermarket checkout
There is more of my blood in path labs
Than I have in my body
I've had nasty painful biopsies
Things up my **** and cameras down my neck
There have been countless appointments
At four different hospitals
As well as being hospitalised five times
Including one minor operation
And two major ones
I now have ******* up kidneys
Veins like ropes and arms like Twiglets
And more scars
Than a bad knife-throwers assistant
But what the hell !
I'm still growing old disgracefully
HA !!

                               By Phil Roberts

Pressed between the pages
Of a novel never read,
Were some faded flow’rs picked in the spring
When love was at its head.  Saved
To capture memories,
(Like the flowers, faded now,)
And yet I smell the springtime,
And I feel the warmth somehow.
For first loves live eternal,
And though faded, stay quite real
Months and years and decades
Are time enough to heal.

The tears that fell upon our cheeks,
Like the flowers now are dry,
Now the sun is shining brightly
In a clear blue springtime sky,
New lovers pick new flowers
And store them fast away,
Pressed between the pages,
To remind them of the day,
When love was more than memory
Like the lovers, life was young
And the days were all in front of them
Their song yet to be sung,
pwl 3/9/16

Let's sit in the yard and watch the heat lightning off to our West ...
Why don't we sip on Margaritas and look for constellations in the night
like two young newlyweds once did
Watch the fireflies from the front stoop , listen out for whippoorwills and tree frogs , watch the airplanes fly by and try to figure out where their going to or coming from
Shoot caution to the wind as they say and just stare at the Moon for awhile , ride the crest of June , pick a few songs on the guitar ...
Grab two blankets and that old portable radio , hunt for shooting stars
and do something fun , relive 1979 and for God's sake be young once more* ..

He stuck two sticks in the mud
Forked like a moccasins's tongue
To hold both poles while we smoked
Camels we stole from the coal
Truck man and drank homemade
Wine swapped for a knife and a dollar
To the drunk up the holler and a can
Of sweet corn ten years old still dusty
And rusted but the trout hit it hard
Anyway like slow flies on a slow
Golden Saturday a long time ago.