Aging Poems

The world slows down. That’s a good thing. Priorities change, also good. The rat race fades into memory. It’s now time to appreciate things. Let the next generation battle to climb the ladder, keep their heads above water. Time for

A vehicle is here for your review: A 1946 used hatchback heart. Not near as shiny as when it was new, But all the parts are there and it will start. It’s true it needs a lot of body work

I’ve become aware I can time-travel, particle-physics has long posited this, Stephen Hawking admits it’s possible, even likely. It starts out this way, drowsing on my front room sofa TV tuned down, & in just a moment an hour and

The Poet Turns 100 In Honor of Stanley Kunitz When my body wears to dust let the remains be language find only verbs at the core struck flints from explosive ore nouns charged with names of foes and lovers cool

when your flesh, leave your bones. when your eyelids, become heavy to be worn. when your skin, don’t shine like a fin. when your hands, tremble holding cans. when your mouth, stops uttering words. when your shin, cant help any

My head is in a real bad state My memory is running late I feel like I am going mad My eyesight now is really bad My teeth have now come to an end Impossible to ever mend My confidence

If I forget spring, bruise my face with grass to meld with soil in prescience of later ritual. If I forget summer, drip on my tongue the blood of fresh berries, and the insolent taste of mint. If I forget

I had always wondered why the sun rose in a distance and pondered if I will ever have a son I always stood far away wishing I was closer, not just a poser, why I chased and wanted a girl

Amazing how Time elapsed Just yesterday it seems I was playing with other kids in the sand To day I see myself coughing and trembling at the dust of the sand I feel I am not even a competitor to

Happiness lies in : Finding joy in little things, Every little blessing, Significance of the insignificant, Enjoying every moment of life. Graceful aging with beauty, Gazes growing with love, Waking up to a new dawn, Admiring the tiniest things. Moments

She drags her tired heels across the tainted floor Her poise held taut though her back is sore She holds on her face a cold marble stare A hard life engraved upon cheeks once so fair Her movements; once grace

A motley group had made an affiliation of sorts It sprouted and mushroomed in our back lane And there was born a poetry club with no name Passion it was for the verses written in Urdu That linked them beyond

Old-man-poet! Write from the heart; Reboot the world; make it new again! Turn its white hoary head with a start; Spin a poem of ablative gain! Let ablution be the God-ablated birth; Let it unravel the umbilical whorl That winds

Rows and rows of books wearing pressed monogrammed jackets aligned at attention upon the shelves edges stained lightly by time. To wring out one more droplet of thought from drying script These aging eyes thirst to caress sweet ebony lines

The tree covered path had me but the light, Intrigued my senses so i pushed through the fright, Crackling branches above aging before falling through, Only one entrance, i’d prefer two. Tilting my head i seemingly entered another time.. i

My looks are nothing special, My face reveals my age. My body shows some wear and tear, And my energy’s not the same. Too often my memory fails me, And I lose things all the time. One minute I know

She looks at me with soulful eyes;her brows raised in a question She looks almost like she is smiling,all I have to do is make the suggestion Don”t even have to say a word,Just pick up the leash and put

The full Moon is on wane Shedding her last attic glory on Earth And every aspect of Earth’s being Scorched too much in blazing Sun, Enjoying the Moonshine bath like budding spinsters Drenching in swelling teenage mirth. The air is

Now I remember, My math’s teacher asking a question, And I just had to look around, It didn’t have to be me! We were so many in the classroom, And so did they, I call it today Group think virus

Page 1. the celebrated sailing frog from Montgomery County went a court’n, or so the tale iz toad to a grand ole mansion built around 1910, and e’en ‘pon being razed ~2012 ah no dummy sea worthiness still plainly showed,

Airliners fell fat like poisoned bumble bees breasting their way into parking lots and highways plowing up concrete furrows tipped with shiny and jagged vehicles trimmed in flame I wake in a light sweat to a fluxuating grumble wondering at

The hurt begins to move and meets in a funeral procession. For aging fireworks this was the last chance, but lake had dried up. There was no fall tonight of the moon All the stars had gone for a memorial

For everything, there is a season, it has been foretold. When I was young and green, securely clinging to the branches of my family Sugar Maple tree, I thought it was the best I would ever be. But here, now,

Like the little droplets humming down the shore, and the yellow sparkles moving free to the core, dismayed to unbind the lore since ages, I want to stay amidst the phases. Shrinking and shivering beneath your arms, prime the relevance;

The coming of a that to dismantle the comb, unstilling trees under tracer bullets swaying in embrace for moonmilk. The unzipped planktons in sea open their mouth to supermoon for a night dive in a green passion. Does it need

The full Moon is on wane Shedding her last attic glory on Earth And every aspects of Earth’s being Scorched too much in blazing Sun, Enjoying the Moonshine bath like budding spinsters Drenching in swelling teenage mirth. The air is

Anger turns you away Holding that poison within your mind Your body and soul consumes you It diminishes your aura like acid And you allow this person to always be a factor To be the bigger person you have to

Transitory Love I will kiss your bruises to give you solace I will love you but like a real sincere lover I will take you on just from place to place I assure you you will be under love cover

The poet in cornucopian Singapore Is an ergonomic misadventure; He’s little less and little more The definitive backbencher; He cannot sit easy At his table or in his chair Without wondering where He fits in the economy! Poet! When asked

A life well lived, still leads us back Straight to old death’s door I thought he was a stranger once But, now I’m not so sure He looks so familiar now Have I seen his face before I pounded on

Night enters into the drift. I get through a fossil, quite beyond the light, a search begins for a tortured being in some ideal’s mire. The battle begins, of fears and doubts and upon the trampled sun-blind truths of past

Sprightly, oh! sprightly, the monsoon winds come, With promises of relief. Lightly, oh! lightly, the monsoon winds hum, The ordeal of belief. Hark me, oh! hark me, the monsoon winds roar, Sizzling to strike the earth. Darkly, oh! darkly, the

Everyday my past comes back to haunt me Making me relive what I couldn’t give up, an unpayable fee Friends, family Love, but not me So quick to steal their breath And fill my world with death With no chance

A union, a vow, a marriage. It is the legal words that bind, But in the day to day work, The love is sometimes hard to find. We run around in our circles Checking off our “to do” list And,

When I was riding back With my father for a walk I saw a child with a sack Picking the rag without a single tag When I set out for play I saw a orphan looking deeply At a couple’s

Feels like not to give you more pain; As you already have a lot of pain. Want to let you go; With a feeling that you will be happy wherever you go. Feels like to pressurize you a lot; This

I had never imagined the impossible Never thought this would happen But how could I deny What was right in front of me It was like looking in a mirror But it wasn’t exactly the same She looked so much

You will see me someday, the open wound deep inside Seeing only the truth, despairing I hide The growing bitter bed, you will see and obey Together, apart, we wed, sever the day Like a raw raisin pit, I won’t

Slither into my skin, Draped in this night absorbing the mist, tasting my sweat and blood and painting your face in my wetness! While crossing the road to the sun You can’t leave my lusty fiddles kissing your bewitched lips…

A sweet treat A smooth heat A bitter bite A mellow delight A delicate taste So pleasantly placed Perfect pleasure To be had at your leisure Flavored with a hint Of refreshing peppermint An essence of orange A joy on

Thoughts need collating for fresher start again Midst environs amiable devoid of societal strain Rise above compulsions rewrite afresh the slate Be one with the nucleus in mystical sort of state