Blois 5d

Today I feel like a snail
who took forty years
to cross a road to find
that the other side was
the same.  And you don't
want to deal with the rage
of a tired snail.
It is sad to find yours is
such an unglamorous totem.

Tomorrow I will feel
like an old philosopher.
I might even go as far
as to offer advise
(tiresome and languid),
and will talk about my
great and epic drift
through the great gray dessert.
And you will say,
here's a wise man,
without knowing that
everything was a mistake.
That it still is.

I warn you, I can change
expressions, seamlessly.
Remember this, cats can't
smile, they can laugh or
destroy it's world,
with the furious sorrow
and as slowly
as a tired mollusk.
And they will try.

Aging 101, Pearls of Wisdom©

What I would tell someone young about the topic
In those moments of philanthropic

Number one would be
It will happen to you automatically you’ll see

Number two would have me say
Live life day to day it will happen anyway

Number three without a doubt
Enjoy each day with glee and feel free to shout it out

Number four is a golden rule
Stay in school and don’t be a fool

Number five you cannot skip
Sorrows will come and go though sometimes they are just a blip

Number six is all about trips
I mean those far and wide, not the kind that can end up in ticks

Number seven for those that care
Live long and prosper and always share

Number eight don’t hesitate
To see outside the box and co-create

Number nine if you have time
Leave a legacy that will shine

Number 10 to remember
Take family and friends alongside for the ride

Number 11 on your way to heaven
Express gratitude at every interlude

Number 12 will help you delve into the unknown
It is remembering that you are not alone

Number 13 is a must and goes beyond lust
It is to love till dust to dust

Andreas Simic©

How seriously are you gonna' take life, my friend
As you a mature.
You designed your marriage carefully
And filled it in with colorful sands
Just as Tibetan Buddhist Monks do
With their Sand Mandalas,
But when the project lost it's meaning,
You blew the sands into the wind.
So,
Now,
Your wife has been replaced by Santa Muerte,
But,
Unlike with your wife,
The thrill is never gone with her.
As you  age ,
And lose your respect for conventional values,
You fall more and more deeply into lust
With this Specter.

You sit by the screen
Waiting for life's demean
I come to stay
To show you a way
As the hours go by
I hope to keep you by my side
You don't look to the past
Just hold fast
These beautiful days
So mother you can still say
All the things we need to hear

Cliff Green Oct 2

"That'll never happen to me" we mused
Casually and rarely in youth, super,  impervious
To fate and random chance
To the ravages of time and other clichés

The cautionary lives and deaths,
The sad and arcane litany
Of misadventure
And made for TV movie diseases,
Like fables from some outer darkness

Decades pass and the news is nearer and nearer
Dearer and dearer
The surprise of learning about so many friends'
Mortality.

The odds have an ugly way of catching up
And staring you down in the mirror
"I hope that'll never happen to me" we pray
Earnestly and often as we age.

RL Glassman Sep 21

Winged birds swoop from the sky
At the edges of light, tame and wild
Cecilia watched, I don't know why
But she stood...and she smiled

The sky was maybe a lilac blue
Like the water of a sea
A colour remembered fondly, you
Stood and watched with me

With your friends and with your flowers
Falling asleep in meditations
Beneath the arriving of showers
You held young orchids and carnations

Soon I beg for our departure, I cry
"Let us leave," I say to you
But I know my words do not fly
Nor are they a lilac blue

And so, I stand beside you, still
Underneath a sky, I admit is like no other
One day we'll leave, you say we will
But for now I sit at the feet of my mother

~.~

The music then plays softly, sweet
The notes you say you love
Looking up from my grassy seat
I listen to the stars above,

They're Dancing to a nightly tune
Above and behind your shoulder
Along with the changing moon
Our stay turns one year older

With the music and with the night
You teach patience to your child
None is wrong and all is right
When Cecil watched and smiled

With the music that's tossed and turned
You teach calmness to your daughter
All is taught but none is learned
With the Washing of waves in water

~.~

All at once the showers arrive
But your daydream has not slept
The lessons taught are kept alive
I promise -
In my dirty hands they are kept

Where we go and where we went
And the time we spend there
Now just sit, be content
The year will be new and fair

Written May 13th, roughly, for my mother's birthday. A first draft. As I read it back, it almost songs like song lyrics at times...
Francie Lynch Sep 17

I don't like that picture framed,
Looking from my shelf;
You're no longer like that,
No longer you're yourself.
I don't like your smiling eyes,
I don't like your hair,
I don't like the way you look,
I don't like you there.
I had plenty,
I was twenty,
A life ahead of me;
I don't like your picture there,
Looking down on me.

I'll place a new shot on the shelf,
A recent picture of myself,
Mirroring pangs of time,
The heartaches that are mine.
A picture of an aged-worn man,
A head that droops,
Shoulders stooped,
A face laced with worry lines,
A wry smile covering crimes;
A still life and a pantomime.
I don't like that picture there,
When I was in my prime.

Jessie Day Sep 11

She grew up
in the black and white era
and her hair shows it.

Her memories are technicolor
but her photos,
monochromatic.

Were his dreamy eyes
that drove her crazy
blue or green?

What color was
that dress she wore
to her sister's wedding

It's not for us to know,
for her colors stayed
in the black and white era.

Mark Lecuona Sep 11

He was too tired to care about much
The mistake was admiring the wrong people
He became a stranger to himself
It’s sad to find out when there’s not enough time

He started too late to make it
Now it’s too important to leave it
They say don’t go and wonder why
There’s never any reason why we live and die

He wondered which book they read
The one about the law or the one about love
He said zealots were the same as bankers
They leave envelopes in the pews and the lobby

He wanted to start as soon as he could
Thought there were knots he still had to tie
But he decided the last chapter wasn’t the end
So he tore it out before that ship came in

The pages have been turned one at a time
He thought about the ending then he remembered
They said there were two paths we can follow
But when he looks back he can only see one

He thought of sands that once burned his feet
He remembered running towards the water
It was so bright it felt like being born again
The sea told his soul it’s never too late to begin

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