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Tony Tweedy Aug 4
How many days could I count that I have left to me?
Would I dare to count, knowing that finite they must be?

I know that there are far fewer than when it all began.
None the wiser am I, as to whether it was to some plan.

I find I have come to ponder the complex and the small.
To wonder if there be a purpose or just no point at all?

Why be given to the thoughts and give time to such things?
Looking for answers but deepest thoughts no answer brings.

Why give the imagining to some ethereal immortal goal,
and wrap it up so fragile in such a flimsy mortal soul?

Were there ever choices that I made as I took life's risk?
Or was it all pre-recorded on some universal Blu-ray disc?

I know the day's sun is setting, another day so newly passed,
Mortal mind taunts me, in the tally, will tomorrow be my last?
Why do we even harbour thoughts of immortality?
This *****
Artificially awake
Lydia
apples 20 years have passed
oranges i want a do over
manhole cover coins
savage glares across the 4 wheeled property lines
young moms not giving a ****, that's alright
kiss of sun hidden from
anxious from blue oak , it's ridges pluming in the dappled twist
and floundering wave, wiggling wave of oak leaves green as frogs.
ponytail suzy, *** from galaxy sci-fi
i brought up a cup while it was empty there,
but so distracted by my own trembling effort,
every hair a furry hood, every fatty fixture of my face a rebounding basset hound
tennis shoes up to my neck, dumb naked in my greenery,
already old somehow, the window closing,
the permanency of parks, like a stilletto in a limosine,
green fixture of my white blinded attempt to see tomorrow,
tourist .
thoughts of Sylvia
, my gaping awe at the feminine,
and its green garden.

-cbrander
Tony Tweedy Jun 6
My heart remembers there is more than this.
It recalls there being something warm and infectious.
When the beat had purpose beyond mere survival.
A throbbing and pulsating that gave power to emotion.

My mind glimpses a past that held joyous moments.
It recalls there being sensation and a fire in my core.
When every dream and hope had shape and form.
A memory made and cherished immune to times' flow.

My body longs for the thrills it once knew when young.
It recalls the dexterity lost through its aches and pains.
When pleasures could be made through another's touch.
A yearning for something that ageing stole in the night.

My soul cries for the sake of heart, mind and body.
It recalls the strength of being someone made whole.
When joy, happiness and love were something real.
A time when life was all and ending was so far away.
Fragments I am become,
heart,
mind,
body,
soul...
Dismembered by life and time.
Getting old and feeling it
LJDC Jan 27
I used to write proses unbothered by rules,
Poems with no assurance of being read,
Words just written to be free.

Now am I one of fools?
Fearing what comes out of my head?
Afraid of what others see?

Is this the curse of technicality?
Of knowing more about reality?
Bluff is that age comes with clarity.

Here is my **** to hell I send,
Existing is tiring year by year,
Is there anything more to feel?

I am far from the end.
But I wish I am near.
I have nothing time can steal.
Zywa Jan 21
I'm getting older:

more experiences, more --


different from you.
"Opgelost" ("Dissolved", 2019, Ellen Deckwitz)

Collection "On the fly"
Benji James Dec 2021
Why am I
Feeling this low
Why do I feel like
Life is moving too fast
Am I just that slow
That I can't keep up
What is this intense aching
In my heart
These emotions
are too much to bear
Trying to find ways
To make these feelings clear.

Let me reset
one more chance
to give my best
all this blood rushing
through my chest
eager for another shot
at happiness.

Is it just me
or does anybody else see
this life passes by too quickly
Before you even get a moment to breathe
Still trying to find ways to shine
The more I try, The more I feel like
I am running out of time.

Let me reset
one more chance
to give my best
all this blood rushing
through my chest
eager for another shot
at happiness.

Getting older
Should be gracefully changing
Seem to be battling ageing
Each day I lose a little more hope
That the dreams I've set
Will never get met
and that makes me a little depressed

Let me reset
one more chance
to give my best
all this blood rushing
through my chest
eager for another shot
at happiness.
Mannequins in the shop front window,
The new years batch take their seats,
Lined up on display, unknowingly.

Between words you lick your lips - quivering
Under your brow, behind your eyes,
******* each body in the back of your mind.

Little lambs to the slaughter,
So meek and so mild.
Just as your precious Herbert
Speaks of his young bride.
neth jones Oct 2021
now i am older
and with a told heart i listen

with some alone time
i could really steer
Betty Apr 2021
I will never understand
exactly when did a finger on the hand of time uncurl
and wave me on from being a girl
Getting older
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