Elderliness

Closer and closer they came
old women with faces made of lava
and stinking volcanic mouths.
Bodies of soil after years of drought,
dead oasis simmered
between thin thighs and haloes
of brittle hair.
They slowly stomped during ancient dust
covered their bird claw feet.
I turned and fled through a thorny bush.
Stumbled into indifference time.
Fell into a muddy lake
and drowned in a cascade of ages.

My Phizog
Strange what one remembers?
after looking through ******* magazine and skipping
the dreary articles, written by it founder
I came across this quote: “every man over forty is
responsible for his own face.”
at the time when reading it I was thirty and was not
unduly worried, but now nearly 50 years later I recalled
the saying.  I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, no
I didn’t look anything near forty, hair gone and sagging the skin.
Face-lift? Out of the question, I had no desire to look like
yesterday’s refry. I smiled, the face in the mirror too smiled,
two old mates accepting each other’s elderliness and I came
to the conclusion that I’m rather fond of my face.

Passing misgivings
There are moments in once elderliness when
the flowers of the mind, the silver of remembrance
is but a cracked black  & white film.
Old age and wishes blend into a golden patina of
illusion, disappointment  seeps in melancholy
lower the tired head and doesn’t let it look up to see
the sky or sense the wind or rain.
This tristesse where has the laughter gone, the charm
of friendship and the beautiful women are
but ghosts in a threadbare past.
The squall doesn’t linger colours become visible there
is no time not to enjoy what's left in the time glass.

Appreciative
  
Six o'clock
In the morning
Is the best time
To get up when it is summer
Stay on the terrace
Inhale the air
Before it gets hot
Make a coffee
Just being alive
Elderliness is to be grateful
For little things

A lady’s dilemma  

Her mind and body are restless
she is in her late-middle-age
a difficult time for a woman.
Her long relationship with a well-off man
has made her economically safe
but she is bored
thinks there has to be some more
before she loses her looks
and disappears into elderliness.
She has grown up with children
they don´t need her as much as before.
A part of her also likes to be settled
married and have a home of her own
She is also worried about her legacy
be sure her children
have something to remember her by.
There is something hectic about her
like time is running out
She might seek solace from her turmoil
in another man’s arms.
She is in a dangerous time of life
I hope she chooses the right path.

The grocery/ wineshop

Once when he lived in Faro (Portugal) and walking about
he came across a grocer shop that was new in 1950.
As window display a packet of washing powder, fossilized
the name of the powder was Blenda, of the same type
his mother had used and tinned sardines.
He entered and was gripped by the sadness of the shop.
It was bigger than he had thought, barrels of wine, and in
a dark corner, old men sat drinking in silence.
So, it was an unofficial wine shop, a hiding place
for the aged who had resigned to their fate of elderliness.
He had a glass of red wine served by a woman older than the shop.
The wine was surprisingly good. He had another drink
and joined the men in the corner.

Antique village

Houses around me are emptying the old, reaching the age of dying.
A timeworn man went missing on Monday, was found miles away,
the local constabulary drove him back home.
He had tried to flee, didn’t to where he had no money.
Behind closed doors in dark rooms, he tries to stave off the fated.
Sunlight unbearable reminds him of the sunrises he will not see.
When a car stops outside his house, he trembles in fear, is a hearse
coming for him?
Voices of children are like the scorn of his elderliness, he longs for peace
but fears death’s endless cruelty.

Posted by the blog Friends of Palestine

The Foreigner

What does one do when your pension is small?
He lived in an industrial town in England not green and pleasant.
Rows of brick houses, a tiny front yard too narrow for a car.
He could not thrive here; going back to Sweden was out
too expensive he would need help from the state to hand him accommodation.
He settled in Portugal, a country he knew little about
low wages, and he could get by with his modest pension.
He bought a ruin, fixed it up, and had a home of his own.
He never learned the language, can go to a café, no need to speak.
He had planned to live out in his house, but elderliness and illness
stopped this dream.
He sold his house moved in with his partner,
she has a big flat
and he helps pay the bills.
Life is good, but when he closes his eyes, his thoughts go back
to his small house and a dog, he had.

The old sea-gull

The old one-legged sea-gull
sat on my roof near the chimney
if felt the cold, scanning the sky.
Once it had been the captain on the outer reef
and fought many a battle to sit on his crown
Someone took a shot at it, and it lost a leg,
together with oncoming elderliness, it left its kingdom.
Took refuge on my roof and lives of scraps of food.
It is still standing proud, but it can´t be hidden
the decline that overcomes us all.
Like the sea-gull, we have to battle on, be dignified
of the onset awaiting us.

Not tonight my lovely

I must stop writing about
The women I met in
my tumultuous youth
that lasted into middle age
touching the years
of elderliness
I do remember a woman
In Taiwan
She had beautiful hair
That turned out to be a wig
She was scaringly bald
Perhaps she had had cancer
She was flat chested too
Wore boxer shorts and
Had an *******
No, not tonight, misses Wong
She routinely dressed
Adjusted her wig
Down in the bar, I drank whisky
To think I had kissed her
With passion

the ending

It is night, the day time had sun and warmed
The living room and the kitchen
I sit alone in my study and enjoy the silence
This should be the time for deep philosophical
About life and the wherefore, it is not, but I recall yesterday when we went to a small town to buy medical equipment for my wife we sat in a café where everybody spoke at the same time I asked why are they not listening before speaking, she said it is not so much about talking it is the sense of community and social cohesion, well in that case let them talk For many old people elderliness is a curse they
live in, fear of dying and know they will but they have not obtained the serenity needed to accept death as a part of a continuation of life
they shall not be a part of
at the supermarket today, my wife spoke to a woman who was upset because her mother had died last night, how old was her mother103  she had been housebound for 4o years in other words she had lived too long of course my wife commiserated for the woman’s loss, a mother is a mother and the woman’s memory was of her mother when she was young                            I ask you to stay in bed is that preferable to die
Be nice to old people but let them die in peace