"incognitaio" poems
To that first strand of Grey....
That pointer to agedness.
Bridge between cradle and grave.
Fine line between ode and dirge.
It is wisdom. It is senility.
Subtle reminder to how on earth, we are briefly gorgeous.
That first strand of grey.
@incognitaio
Mar 10, 2021
Mar 10, 2021 at 6:45 AM UTC
"Eyes, once full of hope and lofty dream, Now stare at passer-by, all
rheumy eyed. Gait of the man that once was. Like a sign post, saying:
Here!, 'how I do not want to be when I am grown"
...
@incognitaio
Mar 10, 2021
Mar 10, 2021 at 7:05 AM UTC
Groomed stallion with strap-in saddle.
Sure footed on paved path.
Rein in hand.
Shall I let her wander?
...
@incognitaio
Mar 13, 2021
Mar 13, 2021 at 1:37 AM UTC
Why they run, I do not know.
Neither can I begin to ponder.
Race to life, love or leisure.
@incognitaio
Mar 12, 2021
Mar 12, 2021 at 4:22 AM UTC
In our quest for perfection,
We postpone.
In our attempt at excellence,
We procrastinate..
...
@incognitaio
Mar 24, 2021
Mar 24, 2021 at 2:57 AM UTC
For what do trees have to complain about.
The consistency in bird droppings?
The dead, the size of his headstone?
Or his unfair share of worms.
@incognitaio
Apr 6, 2021
Apr 6, 2021 at 9:54 AM UTC
One leg. Then the other
Is how a man gets out of his pant trouser.
......
@incognitaio
May 22, 2021
May 22, 2021 at 4:26 AM UTC
Now that wall of clay and mud
has given way to bricks and blocks.
Path, paved by so many feet
now a-glow with tar and asphalt
House names matter no longer
Children now point out their father's house
in description with their left-hand finger.
@incognitaio
May 9, 2021
May 9, 2021 at 7:23 AM UTC