age

Old News

A milestone’s coming and it’ll be soon,
decades in wait, seen many a moon.
Suns have risen and all have set.
There’ll be a last, but not there yet.
~
A half dozen here and a half dozen there,
a middle’s been found, but I don’t care.
The body’s slowing, as is the mind.
Questions answered but still more to find.
~
Thoughts now scattered as a puzzle unmade.
Borders redrawn as the memories fade.
Steps now higher as heights decline.
Trips once painful now feel fine.
~
Aggression decreases and assertiveness rules.
Passivity wanes when there’s less to lose.
Life’s still good with passion unfazed.
With a muse to love I’m daily amazed.
~
The support of all knows no ends.
Thanks to be given to family and friends.
Yes, a milestone’s coming, but it won’t be bad.
Sixty’s just a number, no need to be sad.

~*~
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Birthday Triku

Birthday Cake-

Candles blaze, wax pools.

Sugar glazed time on a dish.

Slices of life shared.

 

Familiar Paths-

Life’s familiar path:

Birth, growth, love, toil and refresh,

relax and recall.

 

Birthday Wish-

They said “Make a wish”

I wish it not my birthday.

WAIT! – Nope! – didn’t work.

 

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Gray Hare

A requested tribute / sequel to “White Rabbit”

(Original lyrics by Jefferson Airplane)

~*~

One pill picks you up

One knocks you to the floor

And the ones the doctor gave you

Don’t do the same anymore

Go see Alex

When he’s feeling sure

~

And if you go chasing some dream

And you know you’ll run all day

Tell’em the caterpillar’s now a butterfly

And the color flew away

Go ask Alex

When he dyed his gray

~

When the chessmen in the boardroom

Give up but they won’t let you quit

And the mushrooms now with steak and beer

And your brain runs out of wit

Go tell Alex

I think he’ll fit

~

When climate and aggression

Have made us all to fear

And the White Knight’s now a talking head

And the Red Queen’s a man with flair

Remember what Bugs Bunny said

Feed the heir, feed the heir

~*~

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Manifestication

I sit and wait for words to flow.
Where they’ll take me I never know.
I’ve danced with stars and commanded the sea.
I’ve chatted with wizards that look just like me.
~
My hand’s my wand to wave to and fro.
My mind’s the place we always go.
My eyes have absorbed many a sight.
My ears heard thunder and “I love you, goodnight”.
~
My life’s been shaped by uncertainty,
striving always to be not me.
Seconds have crept and years have flown.
I’ve learned some things best unknown.
~
Yet time is for shaping, both future and past.
The now unmoldable, it happens to fast.
Love has been felt, now again every day.
On carpets we ride and on clouds we lay.
~
Age has taught me many new things;
the less one cries the more one sings.
The more one loves the less there’s hate.
And the more one laughs the happier the mate.

~*~
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Little Dudes in my Head

Inward adventures in a cavernous space

Peeking through slits at upside-down space

Bouncing about in a big pile of goo

Any’s too many but none’s too few

~

I can never decide what I should say

I think the little dudes want it that way

They scurry about, finding things I forgot

At times they hide things, they should have not

~

Sometime they edit, sometimes they write

They’re always angry when I turn off the light

Sometimes they’re gone for weeks or more

When they return they’ve much to explore

~

Seldom if ever a good or kind word

I keep my mouth shut so they’re not heard

I scream in a whisper, they lull with a shout

They cause great sorrow but alone I’m without

~

Who’s good or bad is never quite clear

Repercussions of choice is what I fear

A constant tug-of-war, each has a side

I’m in the middle with nowhere to hide

~

Their kicking and screaming can be real bad

But more loyal friends I’ve never had

We all share the pain, though I the blame

We share a laugh that’s never the same

~

It could be worse, or so I’ve been told

I guess I’ll decide when we’re all old

~*~

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When?

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If life begins at birth we know of no tomorrows.

If life begins at ten we know of no ends.

If life begins at twenty there’s still time a plenty.

If life begins at thirty it’s time to get flirty.

If life begins at forty it’s time to get naughty.

If life begins at fifty it’s getting kind of iffy.

If life begins at sixty, then have yourself a ball.

If life begins at seventy you had no life at all.

If life begins at eighty than you better take it easy.

If life begins at ninety then better you than me.

If life begins at a century it’s a life most never see.

Every days a surprise, every tomorrow’s a bet.

It doesn’t matter where you start, it’s how far you get.

The End

 

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Tis a Dali Recollection

Sitting quiet with an empty mug of Dali handled haste

Recollections of past mistakes, lessons not to waste

Bottoms dry, sticky drop sides, lip prints beckon more

Pouring fast without a rinse, that always forgotten chore

*

I pass the sink, I didn’t use, but visions tapped never forgotten

Fondly recalling a baby kitty, who with first glance I was smitten

She was a  tiny ball of ebony fluff that strayed from her mother

Found sickly and shy at a shelter, unwanted by all other

 *

Crusty with kitty litter and boogies I tried to give her a bath

And with a flash and a roar I released a pound of wrath

Water splashed and dishes flew as did my favorite mug

Later to be dissected from a wet and soapy rug

 *

Pieced back askew with frustration, dust, fur and fuzz

Now forever immortalized, better than it was

The glue eventually dried as did a smelly kitty snoozing on my lap

It would come to be her favorite place for a cozy nap

*

The mug still has some whiskers stuck in its bumpy glue

Though with each year passing it loses quite a few

Beloved kitty’s now passed after a long and happy stay

Leaving reminders of mistakes that came to be the better way

 *

Like the tasty sip’s that’s now savored from that Dali-handled mug

While quietly  savoring kitty’s memory with every wobbly chug

*

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Purgatory

~

Stairs climbed to a heavenly lair

Each step reluctant of the riser’s dare

The falls grow closer the higher I go

The ground grows distant with hell below

~

This tug-of-war is fought within

Pushing and pulling each a twin

When a journey’s long, all’s to win

With stich and glue all can grin

~

Time’s not direction with a start or end

There’s no give or take, none’s to defend

To counter clock’s never wise

It’s works concealed by the faces disguise

~

Incased to shield and hands that wind

Hands to watch to lose one’s mind

Minds lost seldom found

Seconds ticking to find sacred ground

~

With no end in sight, sight has no end

Starts at viewer, depths depend

Colors attract and shades divert

See the light or life’s inert

~

The stairs again beckon, to darkness they rise

Yet tread must I to rest sleepy eyes.

~*~

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A Thanksgiving Verse

With eyes to the heavens, feet on the earth, hands to our hearts and with our souls radiating from within in all directions, everywhere, to everyone, feel the unity of flesh, spirit and our minds; for we are many, we are one.

Let us rejoice and pay tribute to our forebears, their memory roams among us. It is their remains beneath our feet, covered by the soils of our homage. For it was they who suffered, toiled and worked tirelessly and proudly. It was they who fought the harshest of elements and the temptations of giving up. It was they, whose only desire was to build a home, where once nothing, home for their children, our children and the future.

Let us give our thanks and praise to those that lived before us, to the men and women who gave all and asked nothing in return but the hope, a dream that what they’ve done was good.

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Time for Time-Out

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Time for time-out it’ll end soon.

Dug in the yard with mom’s good spoon.

She’s had it since her wedding day.

Used just for holidays, not play.

*

I said that it was shaped just right,

to dig a trench where armies can fight.

Needs to be deep but not too wide.

Had to dig fast so they can hide.

*

Buried far down just like a tomb.

Guarding treasure found in your room.

Found in a box high on a chest.

It’s the booty pirates like best.

*

I must protect those shiny things:

chains, charms, bracelets, baubles and rings.

Hid them good, remembered the map.

But then forgot after my nap.

*

To help me dig I found a pet.

The best digger there is I’ll bet.

Finished our yard then went next door.

Found nothing, ran off to dig more.

*

Chased our cat high up in the tree.

Grandma called the police for me.

Her nurse had to help make the call.

The police came, that isn’t all.

*

While chasing his dog that I found,

the man fell from holes in the ground.

He said he’ll sue, just wait and see.

I said it was his dog, not me.

*

His face was red, limping away.

But grandma’s heart will be okay.

And I have some more good news.

While digging today, I wore no shoes.

*

They’re nice and clean and tucked away.

I’ll try no pants some other day.

Though mess was made with my bare feet,

I cleaned it up with hose and sheet.

*

Pushed all the water out the door.

Then to your room, I cleaned some more.

Too bad the hose didn’t quite reach.

I luckily then found the bleach.

*

You’ll smile when you turn on the light.

I know you like things clean and white,

with spots of color here and there.

You’ll surely hug your little dear.

*

I’m glad you’re home early today.

Don’t believe what the neighbors say.

The rescue came, Dad’s all right.

Not much pain, he’ll wake by tonight.

*

Go to the doctor, I’ll just wait.

I’ll be good and won’t stay up late.

I missed lunch; I’ll make us a snack.

Fix the chair dad broke with his back.

*

He climbed too high to find his keys,

lost his balance from wobbly knees.

I found some socks to wrap dad’s head.

Then found soldiers under my bed.

*

Recalled the mission to be done.

Ran downstairs to start the fun.

Found no spoons not already bent.

But then found yours and out I went.

*

And that’s where my story began.

Now come sit close mom, hold my hand.

I know that time-outs hurt you too.

But when it’s done I’ll still love you.

*

The End

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https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/468259

Posthumous Futures

~

To all the writers never known
To the few from which we’ve grown
From their words the future’s sown
Rearranged to call our own

~

To all of those that do it now
From palette pure to graven brow
Investing all we dare allow
Divesting that we can’t avow

~

Time records in poem and prose
Imagined journeys no one knows
From euphoric highs to deadly lows
The tide of emotion forever flows

~

Looking back at history
Or hypothesizing infinity
Sensations felt we can’t see
Ink bled sets us free

~

Where to start, that depends
Our time alone shared with friends
Yet all stories must have ends
Well submerged is where life blends

~

Write the dark to see the light
Time always wins the fight
And when you lay awake tonight
Rest assured our future’s bright

~*~

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Slices of Time

~

Stories of a life hidden beneath the grays

Peel back the many layers, see the brighter days

Shades grow ever subtle; space grows to its end

Hues upon a palette, in time all will blend

~

Our colors, depths and textures all leave their traces

Memories in murals and the portraits many faces

Like time measured in the trees ringed grain

Reflections of our many years of snow, ice and rain

~*~

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The Seed

~

Colors of autumn, death’s in bloom.

Return to the earth, the seeds’ final tomb,

nourishing yet another season.

We’re all guests of earth for this reason.

~

And thus the surety of life;

prosperity, mediocrity or strife.

All to return to where once came,

regardless of misfortune or fame.

~

For life is but a lesson –

throughout our mortal existence.

A test of our bodies, minds

and hearts persistence.

~

We’re all creatures of the same seed.

Return to the earth, our souls freed.

So let us not perceive death an end –

simply a new life to transcend.

~

For death is the exploration

of dimensions unknown.

And thus the destiny of the seed-

Grown

~

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Seems To Be

It seems like only yesterday when time was on my side.
The future was ahead with opportunities far and wide.
The world, it seems, my oyster with all its slime and goo.
The pearls were for my plucking; now they are but few.
~
My words no longer flow and little seems to please.
Perhaps it’s just boredom or my mind is now at ease.
Age may be the culprit; it seems to fit the bill.
Birthdays cause reflection as they always will.
~
The image that is seen may not be what it seems.
Tomorrow I’ll be younger, but only in my dreams.
Today I watched the sunrise, it seems, a perfect day.
I think I’ll wake my love and kiss these blues away.

~*~
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Within Reach

This story begins where most would end.
It’s not fiction, I won’t pretend.
The moon was high, my energy low.
The night came fast, my thinking slow.
~
I heard a noise come from my shed.
A scream so loud it could wake the dead.
I stepped outside not knowing why.
Should I return or would I die?
~
Each step closer my life’s less long.
My goal uncertain but temptation’s strong.
To turn and run or hide and wait,
the choice is now, if not too late.
~
Between my door and destiny,
lay the light and dark of uncertainty.
Betwixt the abstracts of would, could and should,
in a purgatory I there stood.
~
Clinging to the past and a peace of mind,
scenarios flood to times I’d find.
Reaching out to unlock my fate,
sights envisioned now bears the weight.
~
In the dimming light of one’s existence,
the future seen in our past’s distance.
Fear now a memory, the dragons slain,
tomorrows welcomed with forever’s again.
~
The truth often stretched resilience we test.
For problems to solve persistence is best.
And the shed’s but a metaphor for time unknown.
While the night the place where stars are grown.

~*~
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