"unsoured" poems
It ought to be lovely to be old
to be full of the peace that comes of experience
and wrinkled ripe fulfilment.
The wrinkled smile of completeness that follows a life
lived undaunted and unsoured with accepted lies
they would ripen like apples, and be scented like pippins
in their old age.
Soothing, old people should be, like apples
when one is tired of love.
Fragrant like yellowing leaves, and dim with the soft
stillness and satisfaction of autumn.
And a girl should say:
It must be wonderful to live and grow old.
Look at my mother, how rich and still she is! -
And a young man should think: By Jove
my father has faced all weathers, but it's been a life!
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The peaks that hold the cold and sterile sky
Rest upon curves both feminine and kind
And carefully erases every dye
That invades the sickest of human minds
What solace will be seen to come here
When the wind blows a cold southerly gale
The air will carry our convictions clearly
Through what shall come, this sleet and rain and hail.
No matter the hurt they will surely pour
On our hearts and our flesh before the end
We will come before them quite unsoured
With our steely grit and our wills unbent
Until time passes on whatever coils
That fate would have in store for you and i
To bind us to inevitable perils
And triumphant victories on these isles.
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 3:07 AM UTC