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#elder
I was born with an ornament — you say I am smart enough to make someone understand. It seems like a present, but it’s a sin. Nobody was with me to see my tears. Soon the pillow carried all the pain and screaming. Yet it’s still too hard to say I am weak — an ornament you believe is strong and smart enough to understand everything. Nobody ever hugged me or asked, “Say your problems, I am with you.”
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Dec 3, 2025
Dec 3, 2025 at 4:52 AM UTC
Invisible ornament
After darkness fell, stars shone on the outside. On Chestnut Street, he came to her bedside. He sat by her deathbed, feeding her soup. Her pale thin lips barely covered the spoon. He told her stories he’s told her before. She tries to breathe with ribs frail and sore. After many hours, she falls gently asleep. He hears her last breath and prays God, her soul, will keep.
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Mar 7, 2025
Mar 7, 2025 at 8:07 PM UTC
68/8 "The Last Time They Met"
The Clock has gone to bed So have the Bell and Chime And such has ceased all hours to pass Beyond the boundary of Time. The Twilight holds you — tender To cheek you turned to foe And so now becomes forever, The Stag becomes a Doe. O, Heart as gentle as the nascent Fawn Who gets lost on familiar paths: "If only to reminisce" — it jests "Or chance upon greener grass."
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Nov 24, 2024
Nov 24, 2024 at 6:07 AM UTC
The 11th Hour
she comes to everyone eventually lies with you on polished hospital beds watches over your crib as you’re fast asleep loves you like a mother loves her newborn tends to your tribulations, to your shortcomings, never judging then soon, she gives you grief for tiny little mistakes you make she insults your frame in the mirror gawks at the insecurities that haunt you makes all your surroundings seem like ginormous threats heats you up with angst and tells you to deal with the real world later, she’ll settle down she’ll patch up the tarnished image she left of you with bill payments and mortgages she’ll start poking you with sticks and bricks, making your back slouch in pain she’ll be fake nice to you once in a while, other times she’ll shame you for taking a cheat day she’ll tear you down limb to limb, bone to bone, leaving little room to try to grow finally, she’ll leave you couches to sit on while the television sizzles, the only entertainment left for you won’t lend any help or support for your medical bills and visits will creep around the corner slowly, telling you to breathe, keep breathing, just keep breathing she’ll try to reach you, but your frail bones and blinded eyes won’t be able to see her hand outstretched in the dark she will witness your last moments with an absentminded smile knowing **** well she loved you, but she was never able to stop to tell you
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Jul 30, 2022
Jul 30, 2022 at 11:15 AM UTC
life
Younger wanting to be older Older wanting to be young Child wishing to be bigger Bigger wishing to be thinner Teen wanting a clearer face Clearer face wanting a better body People lamenting bad hair days Bad hair days replaced with no hair days. . . We diss what we have Wish for what we lack When what we have is gone Oh, what we'd give to have it back! Youthful desires for future yearning Future bearing down like a train Elders' memories of past unnerving Hit by a train never the same Mark Toney © 2020
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Oct 7, 2020
Oct 7, 2020 at 12:25 AM UTC
Never Satisfied
The dragon dance of death, Born in silent Wuhan Round and round far it goes, Filling ballrooms of Rome Hip Hop, Tap, Rock and Roll Taking breaths of poor souls Healthy youth fit to dance, Saving our elder lives.
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May 19, 2020
May 19, 2020 at 1:07 AM UTC
Dance of Death
sugar cane berry stains lost friends life's bends mountain still, in the end there and back, i've been we were kids, you were teens we learned a lot, what we've seen one more shot before we go that sacred breath you always know- when to call it a day
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Apr 6, 2020
Apr 6, 2020 at 11:48 AM UTC
An Old Photograph
Her platinum blonde hair was a firm      spunky Irish when she was a kid And compelled me to wish for time travel      as I have loved her since she's existed She says she'll table dance if she wins All for a package of crackers I'd have     never kicked her out of bed for eating Says if I'm lucky she'll pick Mardi Gras beads I told her that from her wedding picture      Veronica Lake had nothing on her She said straight into my transparent heart:      "I've had a good life" . . .and I was lucky
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Dec 27, 2018
Dec 27, 2018 at 12:24 PM UTC
Joanne @ BINGO
Open up your doors The soul of the elder Rusted keys chirp Under prints small flutter Fly into the heavens Songbird of far Death until morning Follow knight’s star
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Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 9:23 PM UTC
March
She's always been like a tree, Rooted and strong. The resemblance Only grew with her age. The wrinkles of her face- Hard and intricate bark; And her wisdom reaching- Branches offering shade
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Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 12:52 PM UTC
Grandmama
I’m waddling around with wattles. Nothing in a bottle will change that. Not buying a better looking hat Or a brighter, tighter shirt. My childhood left in the dirt, I’m an old man! I do what I can To not look like a wino under a bridge; A smidge of aftershave so I don’t stink And people don’t think I’m decaying. What I’m saying is, I’m getting old. Graying smudges among the gold. This is me. This is what I see daily When I glance gaily into my mirror Expecting the guy as young as I feel. He isn’t real. An old guy sneaked in Again, and I wish I hadn’t peeked. Oh well, this isn’t really hell. I have never thought I was hot, One of those handsome lads that had Everyone’s heads turning for them. I had dim hope there for a while But, no matter how much I smile Nothing wins like smooth skin Broad shoulders and big pecs. I mean, I was not a wreck, but not As I said, even a little bit hot. Oh well, I got what I got, true? Can I or you ever defeat genetics? Like father like son, and mother, Creates another generation of us; Nice guys and gals, but plain, And this old man is what remains.
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May 11, 2018
May 11, 2018 at 2:37 PM UTC
AGING AGAIN
Son screamed ‘When will you grow up, Dad!’ Father nodded in remorse and cerebrated - ‘My heart remains young, Hallelujah!’
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Nov 15, 2017
Nov 15, 2017 at 12:22 AM UTC
Old Age
1 malice so gelidly plated on the day of the parting an old fading rose not receiving love her bitter heart icy in grief 11 the fresher bloom captivated his soul with an exceeding depth a budding beauty so glorious of splendour he'd prefer to hold 111 words exchanged between which made for a catty scene out came the elder woman's claws wanting to scratch the dahlia's eyes 1V and the allure of newer flower he'd ever keep as the ancient wrinkles in time did finally creep
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Oct 7, 2017
Oct 7, 2017 at 7:48 AM UTC
Ancient Wrinkles
Colors of my imagination Grow constantly within my mind, Prosperous world I once created Dragged into elder forces' fight. The darkest matter of Ruination Tries to destroy my universe, But cosmic echoes of Creation Have counterpoused their ancient force. The oldest forces combat wildly - There wasn't any fight like that, The streams of power spinning blindly - Arising essence of black shade. The new stars' substance is arising, From this new essence of pure dark, Now millions of worlds are shining, And billion fires have been sparked. A thousand years passed after battle, I ask its shadows (they're alive): "How could chaotic fight to end up, In giving birth to purest life?" ("We've witnessed universe creation, We've seen a strength of spectral knights, Bringing a life to new dimension Requires energies' collapse...") Shadows retreat - to constellations, Last time I see the new worlds' light, This picture - my imagination, It's getting bleak like nighttime sky. (inspired by Decrepit Birth and Blut Aus Nord)
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Sep 20, 2017
Sep 20, 2017 at 4:14 PM UTC
Shadows of the ancient battle
The basin drains her polluted blood as wine envelopes morose Every minute is a memory, onset of her blanketed comatose Vying in a fog of icons and myths, words always fail them From every misread evil that is disposed of improperly From every neighbor or friend eternally mute again From every gilded pattern that leaves a cuff for the eyes From every fetching barroom, where all such nadir lies
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May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 10:30 AM UTC
Meraki
Elder cocoons Crysalis Hospice Heaves pounding war drums Fables of eternal bridge Bingo and television zombie horde lunch hour Tennis ***** play race car down halls tarred with lost children Abandoned wither liver spot wrists Silk wrinkles Pull like neck folds lifted newborn simba kittens casted into this kingdom scientists culture control climate but not the yellow wall It's too high for a fit cyborg intravenous barbed wire Cathader Penetrating illusions of escapism except the prison wealthy classically conditioned trading ice cream like cigarettes trading blood diseases like ramen packets There is no planned parenthood in old folks homes There is no distribution of free condoms In a facility where they without medication When you're about to win the lottery His last day requested to bed Nurse Christine Wheelchair ridden fumbling to open A shaker of Mrs. DASH I reach to help him open the spice. Growling and Sadistic he festered: "Let the little boy do what he can do." I sat down in my chair. he had his nurse ala mode. no one will fund a ****** dispensary for old folks home. they wouldn't use them.
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Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 7:20 PM UTC
Elder cocoons
upon approach he sees a man with beard of grey and leathered tan who says come here and have no fear i am a mere forsaken man i am a carter of the wood whose lived much longer than he should i travel far through lands bizarre by wound and scar i understood to this the boy a greeting gave my name is Will and I am brave it is your whim should i come in by discipline i will behave this made the carter stop and think he did not breathe he did not blink two thoughts collide and then divide and so decide to cross the brink since it is cold and wet about and my fire far from dying out come sit a spell and warm ye well and i will tell a tale of doubt well to approve the boy does grin up to the flame to warm his skin without delay he does obey as if to say you can begin the carter looks about the trail in hopes to capture each detail his egos fight this is not right and yet, despite, he tells the tale i’ve traveled all the trails I care and seen more than I think is fair i’m growing old my stories told but i withhold this that i share this is a story wrong and true my time has come to tell it too its with a sigh that i must die as soon as i tell it to you there is a curse within the tale the telling of which will unveil a creature foul of horrid howl he’s on the prowl and will not fail for he comes after those who tell the tale that always will compel the hearer who must tell it too but when you do he’ll know it well you see this tale it has been told by many men of ages old and they like I did question why yet did comply as it is told so please forgive my desperate soul impending doom does take its toll to fate be true i can but do one day so you will know its hold at this the boy did squirm a bit up to the flame to turn his spit it’s just a tale and somewhat stale sir you will fail to get my wit it is a tale, yes that is true but cast no doubt on what i do undone by hate I meet my fate so shall he wait one day for you
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Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 9:40 AM UTC
the telling tale (part 2)
upon approach he sees a man with beard of grey and leathered tan who says come here and have no fear i am a mere forsaken man i am a carter of the wood whose lived much longer than he should i travel far through lands bizarre by wound and scar i understood to this the boy a greeting gave my name is Will and I am brave it is your whim should i come in by discipline i will behave this made the carter stop and think he did not breathe he did not blink two thoughts collide and then divide and so decide to cross the brink since it is cold and wet about and my fire far from dying out come sit a spell and warm ye well and i will tell a tale of doubt well to approve the boy does grin up to the flame to warm his skin without delay he does obey as if to say you can begin the carter looks about the trail in hopes to capture each detail his egos fight this is not right and yet, despite, he tells the tale i’ve traveled all the trails I care and seen more than I think is fair i’m growing old my stories told but i withhold this that i share this is a story wrong and true my time has come to tell it too its with a sigh that i must die as soon as i tell it to you there is a curse within the tale the telling of which will unveil a creature foul of horrid howl he’s on the prowl and will not fail for he comes after those who tell the tale that always will compel the hearer who must tell it too but when you do he’ll know it well you see this tale it has been told by many men of ages old and they like I did question why yet did comply as it is told so please forgive my desperate soul impending doom does take its toll to fate be true i can but do one day so you will know its hold at this the boy did squirm a bit up to the flame to turn his spit it’s just a tale and somewhat stale sir you will fail to get my wit it is a tale, yes that is true but cast no doubt on what i do undone by hate I meet my fate so shall he wait one day for you
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75
Her mind has become a tangle of webs. Her memories fight against each other as she tries to recall her wedding dress. Words mix and mingle as her grandchildren tell her about their day. Past and present blur as her loved ones dance beside the lake. She weeps and she frowns as she realises that she's not well. She smiles as she bids her daughter farewell.
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Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 11:00 AM UTC
The Broken Mind