Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
when we are young
we fill our days
with everything that comes along
seductive glances lead us on
pleasures delight our senses
we feel great and strong

then comes a time
when days are filled
with children  family  and work  
with barbecues perfectly grilled
the same old jokes told for a rhyme
and little else

transition to our later years
fills days with memories of earlier ones
life’s frost has whitened our hair
we may start thinking how we were
when blood was fresh in our bones
when we faced our future with all trust  no fears

by now we know what filling our days should hold
that our thinking may be clear and bold
provoking to the young and make them dare
think their own brilliant thoughts and be aware
that we have all the time the world can give
but none to spare
“There's time enough, but none to spare” are the final words in Charles W. Chesnutt’s novel “The Marrow of Tradition” (1901) about the white racist coup in Wilmington, N. C., in 1898.
Pax Dec 2015
The fringes of fate frozen my fingers upon reaching you

………But destiny’s hands are within my grasp…

Then I used my mind’s free will to take hold of it and reach you

Together I’ve achieved fulfilling joy with you at my side

.....…towards a journey to Contentment’s path…

September 25, 2012
http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/willyampax/1042743/
This was one of those poems that I am happy to say, I didn't write a sad poem today. That's what I say last time, been very busy as of lately...
gravygod Sep 2015
when is it crossing the line?
when I am in front of it all
laid out on the table
seeking a potent euphoria
constantly wondering if I have done enough
but it is never fulfilling
on a search for a meaning in this mess
yet never finding one
there's always suspense
wondering if I am secure
the thrill is so intriguing
and too hard to give up
Alan S Bailey Jul 2015
In this desolate place of lovers lost
I can be the one who "isn't in need,"
When there is a "way to uncover"
The ones always on the silver screen.

I can be...
A person who you can trust.
I can be...
A beautiful "devil of lies,"
I can be...
A loner who only fantasized
I can be...
A musician who makes music fly
I can be...
A playful lover with so much life.

But here they found them,
These marriages of "perfect love,"
We live in your hopeful world
We eat your "good cooking"
We sit in your expensive shade
We hear your "creative" music
We  repent for our "faults so grave"

I can be whatever I will,
But I will never be the one
Who ever had a dream that
Can ever be fulfilled...
Lightbulb Martin Mar 2014
Tsk tsk tossed
go out
Your suggestions.

Whisk whisk washed
flow south
Your directions.

Hiss hiss sorry
no time for
sage reflections.

Songs you sang will not be sung
Nor any tales of strength believed.

The brain embodied in such young
Must think it he first to perceive.

Ask every man
Who first made sparks?
From rocks to barks?
Blinding night and fooling fear?

Wholly gone ghost
Our first bright creature
He harnessed fire
Then disappeared.


Realizations when thought anew
Seem to skip from us awry.

So no Salutes
nor an ovation
For those who fostered
Us will be spied.

Gods truth your lips bespoke to youth
Yet still it's not their time to hear.
For these ears are full of magic
And your end rolls
Crushing near.

— The End —