Care brings on grey hairs, and age without years.
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The Grey World
Grey nights in the wind,
And the grey-faced dead.
Grey hairs in my head,
And grey eyes in my mind.
Grey mists in the morn,
And grey waves that rave,
Grey mould on my grave,
And grey eyes forlorn.
Grey clouds in the sky,
And the grey world asleep,
Grey ghosts that sigh,
And grey eyes that weep.
poem by Leon Gellert
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Ten Grey hairs and a silver one
I discovered my first grey hair
when I was Seventeen years old
It had to do with broken up my first relationship
I discovered my second grey hair
when I was Twenty years old
It had to do with the quarrels at home
I discovered my third grey hair
when I was Twenty-one years old
It had to do with searching for work
I discovered my fourth grey hair
when I was Twenty-three years old
It had to do with loosing my job
I discovered my fifth grey hair
when I was Twenty-five years old
It had to do with giving up my unborn child
I discovered my sixth grey hair
When I was Twenty-eight years old
It had to do with opening my pub
I discovered my seventh grey hair
When I was thirty years old
It had to do with giving birth to my daughter
I discovered my eight grey hair
When I was thirty –two years old
It had to do with the first day at the kinder garden school
I discovered my ninth grey hair
When I was thirty-four years old
It had to do with to find out that some thing was missing
I discovered my tenth grey hair
When I was thirty-five years old
It had to do with the fights between my sisters and mum
My one Silver hair I discovered lately
Has to do with you
Because I miss you so hard …
poem by Pascale Ost
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A Gift of Love
Your gift to me after all these years,
The arguments, the making-up, the laughter and the tears,
All the days and nights of love, and every precious hour,
Just some old, grey pubic hairs at the bottom of our shower.
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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What'll I. Do?
The years going quick, my mind is playing tricks,
My body is reeking in pain, oops, I just did the splits;
Where's the balance now I'm getting older,
But isn't it great, the older we get, we get more bolder.
Oh what'll I do, I ask! Yep, What'll I do?
As the years progress faster, time is my master,
Bearing down on me, to me time is a pester;
Then memory lane to me, is disappearing,
And the grey hairs are quickly appearing;
Oh dear, What am I to do, what am I to do.
Those friends I knew from years ago,
Gradually go away, to a place so free; it's true;
And the shopping and housework that has to be done,
Seems I'm not finished till the setting of sun;
Oh. What'll I do, yep, what'll I do.
poem by Margaret Haig
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Consider
Consider
The lilies of the field whose bloom is brief:—
We are as they;
Like them we fade away,
As doth a leaf.
Consider
The sparrows of the air of small account:
Our God doth view
Whether they fall or mount,—
He guards us too.
Consider
The lilies that do neither spin nor toil,
Yet are most fair:—
What profits all this care
And all this coil?
Consider
The birds that have no barn nor harvest-weeks;
God gives them food:—
Much more our Father seeks
To do us good.
Helen Grey
Because one loves you, Helen Grey,
Is that a reason you should pout,
And like a March wind veer about,
And frown, and say your shrewish say?
Don't strain the cord until it snaps,
Don't split the sound heart with your wedge,
Don't cut your fingers with the edge
Of your keen wit; you may, perhaps.
Because you're handsome, Helen Grey,
Is that a reason to be proud?
Your eyes are bold, your laugh is loud,
Your steps go mincing on their way;
But so you miss that modest charm
Which is the surest charm of all:
Take heed, you yet may trip and fall,
And no man care to stretch his arm.
Stoop from your cold height, Helen Grey,
Come down, and take a lowlier place;
Come down, to fill it now with grace;
Come down you must perforce some day:
For years cannot be kept at bay,
And fading years will make you old;
Then in their turn will men seem cold,
When you yourself are nipped and grey.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Sorrow
Why does the thin grey strand
Floating up from the forgotten
Cigarette between my fingers,
Why does it trouble me?
Ah, you will understand;
When I carried my mother downstairs,
A few times only, at the beginning
Of her soft-foot malady,
I should find, for a reprimand
To my gaiety, a few long grey hairs
On the breast of my coat; and one by one
I let them float up the dark chimney.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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Frustration
Frustrated again –
Unemployed and unmarried
Hairs are all but grey!
poem by Asif Andalib
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Regrets are the natural property of grey hairs.
quote by Charles Dickens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Knowledge Is Power
In the morning watch,
Into the midst of learning;
In the evening tide,
Out of the muse that muses;
A knowledge from a pavement made to achieve success,
Like the tune of a beautiful song.
Say it again,
Write it again,
Sing it again,
Play it again,
Come to ACTION SECONDARY TECHNICAL SCHOOL;
A learning environment with love and care.
I do remember, i do remember! !
Like the watchful minutes to the hour when,
I have this loving muse to all who want to learn.
Look!
Over there is ACTION SECONDARY TECHNICAL SCHOOL;
A place where knowledge gained is power to you!
I remember,
Like the open window;
With 'deep-green unifrom' to the vegetation.
Now i know,
'Knowledge is power'!
A peaceful atmosphere of love and care to share with you.
To learn,
To know,
Of a muse like rain drops;
With teachers dedicated to serve you all.
Go, tell it on the moutains;
A candle light from MADINA ESTATE where,
Knowledge is power.
Listen oh heavens,
Hear oh earth,
ACTION SECONDARY TECHNICAL SCHOOL is around you;
A place where knowledge is acquired through learning.
Of the 'grey-trousers' to the world so sweet,
A candle light of hope;
Of the muse that leads to love,
Like a pleasant wit at hand;
A timely success iy all that you need in life.
This is wher love is found,
This is where people learn to gain,
With hopeful years at school;
I remember,
I remember!
'Grey-trousers like grey hairs;
Where knoeledge abounds to the wise like,
The school itself.
Come to where ACTION SECONDARY TECHNICAL is,
Come to gain your knowledge as well;
Learning,
The day's fair face.
Say it again like,
ACTION SECONDARY TECHNICAL SCHOOL;
Like a muse to the world so sweet.
Write it again,
With love and care from the teachers;
Come to this atmosphere where,
Knowledge is power.
A learning place of joy,
To sing to it again and again;
With students and teachers to share their views in,
This royal place of knowledge.
This place of love and care,
This place of a muse that muses;
The day is done when,
You have gained your knowledge.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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To his Girls
Wanton wenches do not bring
For my hairs black colouring :
For my locks, girls, let 'em be
Grey or white, all's one to me.
poem by Robert Herrick
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Grey, Grey Sky
Someday I will ride the great bird
Into the sky, into the grey
And will take a bright secret of mine
Into the grey, grey sky.
And the light will come, piercing my eyes
Out of the sky, out of the grey
Come blinding and searing these eyes
Out of the grey, grey sky.
And I will find comfort in this
In the wide sky, in the wide grey
In the painful dark brightness of light
Light of the grey, grey sky.
My secret will fly away home
Into the sky, into the grey
And the great bird will follow it there
Into the grey, grey sky.
And I will be riding that bird
Bird of the sky, bird of the grey
And I will come home once again
Home to the grey, grey sky.
But for now I am weighted, earthbound
One of the mud, one of the ground
And I write this sad song to sad sound
Girl of the pavement sighs.
poem by Grace Hutton
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Over In Love (instrumental)
Cold wind blows
Shivers loose
Hard rain
To my skin soaked through
So over in love with you
I don't even care
Sky turns grey
Black and blue
Fall on me
I can't be moved
So over in love with you
I don't even care
Hot sun shines
And lays bare
Shadows cross cut
Heavy air
So over in love with you
I don't even care
The tide that washes in and out
Reveals a heart
And face worn new
So over in love with you
I don't even care
I don't even care
I don't even care
I don't even care
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Education
Education in peace brings peace,
Education in love brings love,
Education in care brings care,
But education in war brings war to all mankind.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Who'll Say Imagination Fails? 0939
Thesis
Spring sap and summer sun prepare a page
Autumnal sending shivers down the spine.
Nine months gestation, three [s]core years, life's stage
Gives way to Winter woes, wan Death's design.
Though leaves believe in triumph for a space
Of years Time runs rings round ridged wrinkled bark,
Night falls too quickly, few leave lasting trace
As bite turns toothless finds falsetto bark.
Then blue skies turn to grey, youth's chestnut tresses,
Adored once, age transmutes to silver pure,
Life's wick is snuffed by Fate, the trick distresses,
Is trapped by Time, pathology none cure.
And yet, who'll say imagination fails,
When your smile warms, storms cease, new lease lifts scales.
Antithesis
Such themes, of tattered trees, of timber logged,
Are far from sure to forward lover's cause.
Nor are nightmares, white hairs, or blood-lines clogged,
Guaranteed to win true love's applause.
Turn then that page, think rather each day brings
Open space to change, to challenge fears,
New light to shed wrong's stings, to spread strong wings
Anticipating flight beyond frontiers
To which embittered habit often clings.
Accompany imagination, steer
Limitless course which no misgivings brings,
Is both at peace with others, self, sincere.
Acclaimed is tolerance, condemned disguise,
Wellspring flame true fame personnifies.
(23 May 2001)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Gray hairs are signs of wisdom if you hold your tongue, speak and they are but hairs, as in the young.
quote by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Chord of Colour
My Lady clad herself in grey,
That caught and clung about her throat;
Then all the long grey winter day
On me a living splendour smote;
And why grey palmers holy are,
And why grey minsters great in story,
And grey skies ring the morning star,
And grey hairs are a crown of glory.
My Lady clad herself in green,
Like meadows where the wind-waves pass;
Then round my spirit spread, I ween,
A splendour of forgotten grass.
Then all that dropped of stem or sod,
Hoarded as emeralds might be,
I bowed to every bush, and trod
Amid the live grass fearfully.
My Lady clad herself in blue,
Then on me, like the seer long gone,
The likeness of a sapphire grew,
The throne of him that sat thereon.
Then knew I why the Fashioner
Splashed reckless blue on sky and sea;
And ere 'twas good enough for her,
He tried it on Eternity.
Beneath the gnarled old Knowledge-tree
Sat, like an owl, the evil sage:
'The World's a bubble,' solemnly
He read, and turned a second page.
'A bubble, then, old crow,' I cried,
'God keep you in your weary wit!
'A bubble--have you ever spied
'The colours I have seen on it?'
poem by G.K. Chesterton from The Wild Knight and Other Poems (1900)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Cold Comfort
Say, will it, when our hairs are grey,
And wintry suns half light the day,
Which cheering hope and strengthening trust
Have left, departed, turned to dust,
Say, will it soothe lone years to extract
From fitful shows with sense exact
Their sad residuum, small, of fact?
Will trembling nerves their solace find
In plain conclusions of the mind?
Or errant fancies fond, that still
To fretful motions prompt the will,
Repose upon effect and cause,
And action of unvarying laws,
And human life’s familiar doom,
And on the all-concluding tomb.
Or were it to our kind and race,
And our instructed selves, disgrace
To wander then once more in you,
Green fields, beneath the pleasant blue;
To dream as we were used to dream,
And let things be whate’er they seem?
O feeble shapes of beggars grey
That, tottering on the public way,
Die out in doting, dim decay,
Is it to you when all is past
Our would-be wisdom turns at last?
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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