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Cliff Green Oct 2017
"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 2017
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 ***** 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 2017
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 one's self,
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 2017
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 2017
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
Randall Walker Sep 2017
Tick tock, tick tock,
It’s fading, have I erred?
The clock strikes callously,
Leaving me empty and unheard.
My beard is long and grey,
My eyes, they droop with sleep,
I know my time is rushing to an end,
Oh tell me, have I erred?

The sounds mirror silence,
I’m feeling quite alone,
I choke and sob and scream and beg,
Please someone take me home!

My life has been lived,
But the mystery is still there,
I’ve got a feeling in my bones,
It’s really quite queer.

I know not where to go,
My legs shake with my weight,
I’m dying slowly, slowly,
And I have none left to embrace.
Tick tock, tick tock,
My breath is rasping, have I erred?

I’m scared of dying,
Though my knowledge tells me shush.
I’m scared of not applying myself,
God have I missed the rush?
The flow beneath my feet,
Perhaps this is me falling?
I can hear the reaper at the door,
Mighty early from him to be calling!

I’m outraged that he’d dare,
I swear I’ve taken each and every care,
Haven’t wavered in my healthy habits
For all this past and total year.
Now! Now? Oh, the audacity!

He steers me towards completion of his chore.
Whispers how I’ll be here nevermore,
Though I choke, sob, scream, and beg,
Please, please, I need another door!
Neville Johnson Aug 2017
I'm dropping Julia off
I tell myself I'm OK
She's off to college
My little is not so anymore
It's time for her to go on

I say, "I love you sweet baby,"
We both shed a tear
I rebel at the the thought
She will now disappear

The teddy bear and dolls are gone
And carrying her on my shoulder
This is life, I understand
Children must get older
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