Saga Of The Ageing Orphan
Father and I waved goodbye
As we went to look
Uncle peter was writing a book
And his mama was starting to cook and shes ageing
We had come in search of one
Who evades us all
Never heeds the call
If only someone could stall this ageing
So Ill go and hope and know
That my time is near
Laughing through the years
Having only fears of ageing
song performed by by Thin Lizzy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Saga Of The Ageing Orphan
Father and I waved goodbye
As we went to look
Uncle peter was writing a book
And his mama was starting to cook and shes ageing
We had come in search of one
Who evades us all
Never heeds the call
If only someone could stall this ageing
So Ill go and hope and know
That my time is near
Laughing through the years
Having only fears of ageing
song performed by by Thin Lizzy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Ageing Gipsy Woman
An ageing woman of no fixed abode
She has travelled down many a road
The lines of life etched on her face
And she is one who ages with grace.
Born into the wandering way of life
And is she a mother and to an ageing Rom a wife
And does her children play music and sing
And dance around the camp-fire in a ring.
All she asks is a small help from you
A gold or silver coin maybe two
Towards her ticket to her next destiny
How far distant from Paris or to where that might be.
The darkness of her eyes and her hair
And the colourful scarf that she wear
A beautiful though ageing Gipsy Rose
She strikes such a classical pose.
One can detect the pride of her race
And the wisdom in her beautiful face
The wisdom the years only bring
To one who should be a Queen for a King.
Discrimination against her she surely has known
But any thoughts of inferiority she has outgrown
So elegant, graceful and proud
She would stand out in any crowd.
The camera of course never lies
It has captured the wisdom in her brown Romany eyes
The great book of life by her read
And of her what more can be said.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Along The War Avenue Of honour
Along the war Avenue of Honour a plaque to a dead soldier nailed to every tree
Brave young men who died in battle their reward for their bravery
They died in the war said to end all wars in the killing fields of World war one
But many wars since and far too many bloody battles and peace in the World not yet won.
Wars started by silly ageing men who send the young for them to die
Ageing men who themselves will die of old age and their twilight years they will enjoy,
ageing males heroes of their people we honour cowards as heroes one might say
The young men will go to war for them and the young men with their young lives pay.
The war supposed to end all wars long over almost nine decades since have gone by
But many wars have been fought since then and war pilots dropp their big bombs from the night sky
But suppose that's what will always happen when we give all of our power away
To silly and ageing male war men who with hair dyes cover their gray.
Along the war avenue of honour long dead soldiers names on every tree
Young noble men who died in battle far from homeland and family
In what was to be the war to end all wars yet we don't have much wisdom to show
For the loss of so many fine young men well over eight decades ago.
poem by Francis Duggan
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In The Fields By The Sullane
In the fields by the Sullane that flows through Macroom
The wildflowers of Nature are now in full bloom
And the ageing migrant remembers today
The place where he lived in as a boy near a town far away.
His soul mate and the best friend he ever did know
His Aussie wife passed on a few years ago
Their grandchildren teenagers and time ticking on
And his best Seasons to the forever long gone.
To the young mind the far off hills always look green
And he left friends and family when he turned nineteen
The wanderlust in him for the big World out there
From the fields by the Sullane he would live elsewhere
Forty eight years out of Macroom in time quite a span
In this Southern Country a gray haired ageing man
The years telling on him the years never lie
Far from the Sullane he is destined to die.
To this Southern Land his best years he did give
And on his retirement pension he now has to live
The passing of time has left him walking slow
The one from the fields where Sullane waters flow.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I'm Tired Of Ageing Politicians
I'm tired of ageing Politicians talking of war
Young soldiers risk their lives for them in Countries afar
And yet they seem to get re-elected when the voters have their say
They play their patriotic card and for them that does pay.
Their war card is their winning card they talk of us and they
And they send young people to fight for them in Countries far away
Not for any moral principle but for their own self interest
War helps them for to cling to power and seems to serve them best.
I'm tired of ageing Politicians who wage war in God's name
Who send others to kill and maim for them in their quest for immortal fame
The winners only write the war history and that's how 'twill always be
Yet the cost in the loss of Human life is huge for every war victory.
I'm tired of ageing Politicians who at the least excuse
Send their war planes off to distant Lands to set terror on the loose
For every death they may boast of another terrorist they create
They talk of peace through the gun barrel and they only give us hate.
poem by Francis Duggan
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We Live In An Ageist Society
We live in an ageist society where ageing people are treated as second class
Where the ageing man and ageing woman are seen as inferior to the young man and the young lass
And the older you get life gets harder the future belong to the young
And so many on retirement pensions are lonely, forgotten and unsung.
They worked hard for to raise their children but they will end their days in a retirement home
And their children don't visit them often 'twould seem that their usefulness they have outgrown,
One might say they've had a good innings though nothing easy came their way
And I do not find it consoling to think their lot will be my lot one day.
I fear growing old more than I fear death their last few years so few enjoy
But I suppose that there is consolation to know that the wealthy too grow old and die
And life too will go on without them their money will not keep them alive
The Reaper one day he will claim them though to an old age they survive.
We live in an ageist society and ageism is on the increase
One can feel happy for the dear departed at least they can now rest in peace
Rejected in their old age and lonely with only their good memories left to recall
And only the Reaper awaits them the Reaper who waits for us all.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I Have Seen Continents Written On Faces
I have seen continents written on faces
with eyes full of pain, postures in a weathered mien
and at a number of places
images went to my brain, of some people keen
with their loving embraces
while others living in a world that had been,
of which only memories remain.
It is as life changes from its summer form,
changes with ageing
while people from youth through adulthood transform
and if daily some have a struggle that is waging,
a kind of brewing silent storm,
that lashes against the remainders of summer and spring
while daily they have duties and a myriad of tasks to perform.
When through ageing and destiny
people have to live alone,
or it may be by their iniquity
that a loved one is forever gone,
then there is sadness that I sometimes see
while they struggle to live on and on
and from life and living some wish to be free.
Yet others age well
as if they are totally exempt
from life’s spell,
while younger women still do them tempt,
it’s if they did not experience the same kind of hell
and to ageing, illness and death have contempt
while they still in their mansions do dwell.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Mirror
I look in the mirror, what do I see
An large, ageing woman that I don't want to be
I'm kidding myself that the mirror tells lies
But deep down I know I'm really that size
A tummy tuck's needed, also some lipo
I'm beginning to resemble a really big hippo
Could do with an uplift, my boobs went all saggy
What about my skin? that's gone all baggy!
I've noticed some creases under my eyes
I think I could do with a whole new disguise
I liken my faceskin to a Savoy cabbage leaf
All these flaws are causing me grief
The joints all need oiling, you should hear them creak
You can really tell that I'm an ageing antique
But I've decided I'm not going to stress
Because guess what? this antique is priceless
Hope
the sun is going down
behind the wood
to call upon the moon
at dawn
and noon
as wise as it could
but the time is gone
for me to go home
and rest upon a stone
and wait for the sun
tomorrow
and unearth memories
of ageing intellect
with passion and hope
as the sun
goes down
and usher me a kingdom come
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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Mama Laye
(myles goodwyn)
Published by slalom publishing co. - bmi
In a foreign land beneath a foreign sky
They speak of mama laye
They dont believe she died
The people raise their eyes
They said theyd sing a song
They ask the spirit world
Cause they know where shes gone
Shes never far away, mama laye, no
Shes never far away, mama laye, no, no no
They say she never sleeps
She never close her eyes
She speaks the magic tongue
Shes slowly hypnotized
Shes never far away, mama laye, no
Shes never far away, mama laye, no, no no
Shes never far away, mama laye, no
Shes never far away, mama laye, mama laye
They are as grains of sand
And then they are as one
They pray to mama laye
The father, mother, son
They say shes never far away, mama laye, no
Shes never far away, mama laye, no
Shes never far away, mama laye, no, no no
Shes never far away, mama laye, mama laye
Shes never far away, mama laye, no
Shes never far away, mama laye, no
Shes never far away, mama laye, no, no no
Shes never far away, mama laye, mama laye
song performed by by April Wine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Those bare forests
When I was young, I had gone to this forest,
It was dark, deep and wild,
Like my youth it was full of resources,
I had spent few days there and had learned how the forest life is?
Forest life means survival of the fittest,
I could not find difference between city and forest,
In city too only the fittest can survive else the human who have wore the leather of lethal animal will not let the herbivore animal like us to live.
After twenty years struggling in the city and being tortured by children,
I returned back to the same forest to see its growth,
I could see it was bare, cut by poacher, deforesters,
It had not followed its own rule and the trees which it holds were all ageing like me,
We both were thrown out of the society it was thrown by cutting and I by my own sons.
I and it had the same fate bare with few more ageing hair and trees to be removed.
poem by Sambidhan Acharya
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The Old Sugar Daddy's Woman
It isn't for love she is with him the ageing and bald headed Stan
But to his money she is surely attracted and money in her eyes makes the man
A blond in her late twenties and quite attractive and he has turned seventy four
But money to her is what matters and he is worth fifty million or more,
Young enough to be his grand daughter his eldest grandchild is her age
Her sugar daddy he is ageing a very wealthy man but not a sage
To him she is heavily pregnant to his vast fortune another heir
Her first child a son or a daughter will be born as a millionaire,
She is known as the sugar daddy's woman her man may have known a better day
But money to her is what matters and for herself she is doing okay
He may not look a young muscular sex symbol with hair dye he covers his gray
But money does speak every language and of you says more than words can ever say
Her lover is forty five years older than her but he is a wealthy old guy
And he has got plenty of money and few things that money cannot buy.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Ageing means a loss of a number of skills over time.
quote by Julie Bishop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Ageing Nature Lover
She is such a likeable person in her there is not any guile
And where she goes joy always follows she has such a beautiful smile
She loves the wild birds in her garden each day she fills her bird feeders with seed
A woman who loves Mother Nature and friends like her Nature does need
A woman in her mid to late seventies her husband for years in his grave
It was cancer that did take him from her right till his end he was quite brave
Their only child a middle aged woman now has two teenage daughters they live in a big Town far away
They did visit her last December with her a weekend they did stay
She has a friendly jack russell terrier a little white and brown dog with a waggly tail
With him in the park she's seen often she walks him each day without fail
She is one who is ageing with grace her hair is a natural gray
She is always so friendly and cheerful and to everyone she says good day
She is an ageing Nature lover and a beautiful person indeed
And Nature is lucky to have her since all of her friends Nature does need.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The One Of The Future
The man of the future the babe of today
That's how it is and it has always been this way
When one generation is ageing one is in their prime
And the hands keep on turning of old father time
The mother of the future is crawling on the floor
To the human population numbers she will add more
Twenty years may seem a long time but time ticks on fast
And the time will come when she too will be seen as one of the past
'Tis true that the future belongs to the young
The praises of those in their twenties are so often sung
The one of the future is beginning to talk
And crawling on the floor before learning how to walk
The younger years seem for to tick quickly by
And on looking back time it does seem for to fly.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Age of Fall
A time when things material
begin to have little… or no
Import at all
A time closely akin to Nature’s transformation
From verdant summer green
To roseate and redolent Fall
A season in life…
as much a reason in Nature
When retrospection and reappraisal…
like falling leaves…
settle softly…subtly
On each one and all
A season when sentiments
of sincerity, and satisfaction
Reign supreme
As inevitably as soft blankets of leaves
And inexorable incursions
Of fall’s ice upon streams
A time of looking back o’er shoulder
No concern to what
Lies ahead
A time of taking stock of how life…like leaves
Has fallen about you and humbled
Your weary head
A time of peace…in both meadows and mind
Of qualities shared equally…
By both in kind
Ageing and Fall…times of hesitation
To look back upon…wistfully..
Your Summers and Spring
Of blossoming trees…and of fond memories
That only Ageing…
And fall can bring
poem by David Whalen
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Spectacle
My little sparrow flies all over the middle east sky
and she tells'A sparkle round the clock there,
they are at the frontier face to face'.
For what?
A friendly chat?
No my dear they are willing to see the blood each other.
A tyrannize movement!
I passed a message to my little sparrow
'If possible ask the raincloud to make an incessant rain and
a typhoon to scatter all these inhuman invalids
and moisture their heads, brains and souls'
She replied ' I'll try my level best uncle'
Now she calls me uncle,
Oh! I am ageing?
Dedication to the poetess Huda.Orfali
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Thinking
Till the time
You keep
Growing
Emotionally,
Spiritually,
And
Psychologically,
You’ll find that
Your physical
Ageing has
Nothing to do
With your
Vibrant
Thinking…
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Mama
Orbison/melson/rush
Mama, just had to call, oh mama
Your baby boy just had his heart
Broken in two, she said were through
But to send her best to you.
Oh mama, Id like to run to you mama
Id come home today, leave right away
But things wont work that way
Gotta stay, and be a man
If I can, oh mama.
No mom, I dont know I called her tonight
No, not at home, yeah, youre probably right
Yes Ill take care of myself. no Ill be alright
Ill go to bed early tonight.
Oh mama, tell dad I think of him, mama
Hows uncle joe, my puppy go-go
Tell them hello, oh Id better go
But good gosh, I loved her so.
Oh mama, dont worry so much, darling mama
Now mama dont cry, just say goodbye
Cant have us both in tears well mom, you know me
Yes Ill always be your baby through all the years.
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When two ageing good friends fight, it's because of an old grouch.