The Meaning Of Life Is Unique To Us All
When I was five I wanted to be ten,
How I longed to be a young man,
My mind would wander every now and then,
I wanted to be in the grown ups clan.
When I reached ten I thought of being twenty,
By then I'd be driving my car,
Time for the future, well I still had plenty,
Getting older was a distance too far.
Now I've hit twenty I've nothing to fear,
Time goes past so very slow,
I'm still a young man so I've nothing to fear
I've still got a long time to go.
Thirty years old and it's still not too bad,
I've a wife and children I love,
My health is good I love being a Dad,
My life is a gift from above,
The big four zero has finally come,
I now watch, as my parents grow frail,
The thought of that is making me feel numb,
To prevent it should be our holy grail.
I'm now in my fifties my children have flown,
This life can be really quite strange,
Back when I was five I wish I had known,
Growing older you cannot exchange.
Be careful what you wish for it may come true,
Take your time for life is too short,
Enjoy every minute, age you cannot subdue,
When young the facts you distort.
I'm now in my eighties how I wish I were five,
My time here has just flown by,
All those I loved would still be alive,
Now their memories still make me cry.
The moral is don't wish your life away,
Treat each living second as your last,
Enjoy your years every glorious day,
For in the blink of an eye it has passed.
Scientists spend billions asking why we exist,
Look outside, what you see will enthrall,
It is solely for living is the point they've all missed,
‘‘ The Meaning Of Life Is Unique To Us All ‘'
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Treat Each Living Second As Your Last
When I was five how I wanted to be ten,
I just longed to be a young man,
My mind would wander now and then,
I wanted to be in the grown ups clan.
When I reached ten I thought of being twenty,
By then I'd be driving my car,
Time for the future, well I still had plenty,
Getting older was a distance to far.
Now I've hit twenty I've nothing to fear,
Time fades past me so slow,
I'm still a young man so I've nothing to fear
I've still got a long time to go.
Thirty years old and it's still not too bad,
I've a wife and children I love,
My health is good I love being a dad,
My life is truly a gift from above,
The big four zero has finally come,
I now watch, as my parents grow old,
The thought of that is making me feel numb,
As I know it cannot be controlled.
I'm now in my fifties my children have flown,
This life can be really strange,
Back when I was five I wish I had known,
Growing older you cannot exchange.
Be careful what you wish for it may come true,
Cherish life for it's far too short,
Enjoy what you have age you cannot subdue,
When you're young these facts you distort.
I'm now eighty years old how I wish I were five,
Hindsight's such a wonderful thing,
All those I loved dearly would still be alive,
I'd be thinking of what the future might bring.
You must live for today forget tomorrow,
Just be thankful for being alive,
Though there will be joy as well as sorrow,
It's how we cope that makes us all thrive.
Life is precious don't ever wish it away,
When it's gone it becomes part of the past,
Enjoy your years every wondrous day,
‘' Treat Each living Second As Your Last ‘'
A Journey in Life
Remember when. At an age so young,
When life was in the future,
And all your worries seemed so intent,
And disappointments flowed from a parents tongue
When your future only began at an age,
When you were allowed to drive a car,
Or date that someone older than you,
And you felt enclosed in a parent’s cage.
Then as you grew and your body matured,
Your future rushed in, with a sense of reality,
Where to go and what to do,
To give your life meaning, with a future assured,
Still to young to fully understand,
A parent’s wish, that you might become,
More successful in life and the path you choose,
To be better than theirs, that’s all they demand
Yet, as you age, with choices made,
Forks in the road, don’t always lead,
To the end result, and the goals intended,
For some forks are not, as they were portrayed.
Then as you grow, and time has passed,
With a family of your own with children to share
The experiences in life and the paths you took,
To guide them forward, with knowledge amassed
Just never, forget, you were once there,
At an age in life, when all was good,
And through out the years, with the passing of time,
You now understand why your parents were not fair.
poem by B.J. Ayers
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The Future Is The Children's
The future is the children's and I am of the past
And I too had my young years but nothing ever last
On looking back the Seasons how quickly the years have gone
Old age is fast approaching and the clock ticks on and on.
The future is the children's the children of today
They have the gift of youth with them though youth with them won't stay
On looking back decades from now when time has left them slow
They will wonder as I do where did the years to go.
The years are catching up one me and time has left me gray
And the future is the children's that would be true to say
The people in their sixties are running out of time
And few of them will be living when today's children are in their prime.
The future is the children's and to them alone belong
And those who will tell you differently have somehow got it wrong
But the hands of time keep turning and time on none does wait
And all of us are branded with an invisible use by date.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Golden Years
he finally reached his golden years
wanted to leave his family,
thoughts and love to share.
so he sat with pen in hand
wrote about his lifes plan.
it started off with just his dream
never expecting the unforseen.
as his plans began to unwind
he found himself lost in time.
he joined the army at an early age
this was to become the setting stage
he survived the street gangs and a war
and never talking about what he saw.
he managed retail businesses all his life
met the woman who would become his wife.
he had always loved children
so he thought it was time
his wife agreed and it turned out fine.
a beautiful little girl came into their life
and everything seemed twice as nice.
now he had two women who captured his heart
and knew right then, that this was the start.
the start to his golden years
with his wife he could share.
all the dreams that were meant to be
was now becoming a reality.
but the years was going by fast
he knew his dreams would not last.
now with this thought in mind
he decided it was time
to put his life in perspective
for the golden years to become effective.
so he changed his train of thoughts
a late retirement he would abort.
he retired before his time
so he could enjoy life the way
that it was meant to be
living happy and carefree.
now that he finished writing
down his thoughts and plans
he let them know
'YOUR PERCEPTION BECOMES YOUR REALITY'
and this is what mine was to me.
the golden years are now mine
and i'm lost in its time.
poem by Louis Rams
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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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Face In The Mirror
Time passes by
And the years fade into the distance
I look into the mirror and see a young boy
Full of hope and potential
A few moments later I stare again at my reflection
And I see a young teenager
Enthusiastic and full of life
Tasting love for the first time
Preparing to step into adulthood
Ready to take on the responsibilities that adulthood brings
I stare again at the mirror
My past lives reflected back at me
I see a young adult
Taking his first steps in the world
Learning how to interact and build a future
Hoping to find a partner to share his life with
Again I look into the mirror
This time the adult is older
Just turned thirty
The stress lines are starting to appear
Hope has faded to cynicism
The relationships have all ended badly
A breakdown is just around the corner
As I look into the mirror
I see a sad young man on a mental ward
Trying to come to terms with the pressures of life
The figure looks lost and forlorn
Will he put the pieces back together again?
Another glance at the mirror
This time the figure is nearly forty
There is a distant look in his eyes
Dreaming of what might have been
There is an attitude of acceptance and resignation
Life is a hard battle and sometimes you lose
Just living out the remaining years
Another glance at the mirror
This time the figure appears much older
The adult is now an old man of sixty-five
There is a look of fear in his eyes
His family have passed on and he is all alone
Only distant relatives remain and they were never close
The fear is of what lies ahead
Pain and suffering and death
As I look again in the mirror
I see a grave and a gravestone
Only two or three people at the funeral service
A sad end to a life
And as he gasped his last breath
Fear was still close at hand
What faced him after death?
Would his soul face damnation
For wasting the gift of life?
The gates of heaven would be slammed shut in his face
soul without a home too afraid to enter into hell
A soul endlessly searching for redemption but time has run out
A never-ending period of purgatory
A tormented soul without hope of redemption
As I look into the mirror I see my true self
Tears roll down my cheeks
I have seen my fate and it frightens me
Please guide me towards the path of salvation
poem by Jojo ismail
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Blink Of An Eye
By george perilli and michael mcdonald
Child, as I look in your eyes
You know my life seems like a minute
There I find living proof
Of all the wonder life hold in it
In the past I thought I had to learn
Any good that comes from this life were living
Here and now, let us realize
That this lifes gift and its already been given
Chorus:
Someday when you stand in the middle
Like it or not youre gonna look both ways
Youre gonna find that time is a riddle
Where days turn into years
And years into the blink of an eye
Child, once I saw a man on the tv
Lead a nation up a mountain
He said, children, look over yonder
The flame of truth is burning brightly
Sometimes you look so far, theres only so much time
Only so many of us are gonna get there
Here and now is all we really have
But if we can make it count
We got no reason to worry
Chorus:
Youre gonna walk that mile
Youre gonna be in that number
Youre gonna make that journey
Just like the good book says
Theres a time to be born, a time to cross over
You can be sure its in the blink of an eye
song performed by by Michael Mcdonald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What They Will Say
Some times, I wonder if I write for the future.
That may seem like a strange statement to make.
Forty-three years ago, I wrote a poem
that at the time no one wanted to know.
Now it is my best-loved poem
read by countless people around the world.
Thirty years ago, I wrote two poems
and each one won me an award,
but at the time I wrote them,
no one wanted to know.
All of which makes me wonder
if what I wrote in my yesteryears
that then none wanted to know.
Could they all be popular now?
Today I started collecting and retyping
short stories I wrote twenty years ago.
At the time, publishers and agents
didn’t want to know.
Now twenty year on
I am wondering what they will say.
24 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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Beyond the present
It took forever to spend the last few years
I wanted to take life beyond, to the future
But now as i head towards fate, I have a fear
What if its not what i see?
Now i regret, now if i could relieve the gone moments
The ones i spent in planning this day
But now m fed up of this planning and think
Is it even gonna be that way?
I'm tired of thinking got no zeal to act
Enjoy life as it comes, now tis a proven fact
I know why i wanna go back
M scared of the future
And i dnt have memories to rejuvenate my soul
And no close mates to share life with
well, i can't look back as time has pushed me to the brink
the ocean's out there, here i am, ready to sink
Just a few years n future will show its face
I have been imagining a world of my own
any way I'll have to move on
but now i still do wish......
life.......either take me fast to the future end
or back...........so i relive my past.......
poem by Pooja Ladyluck
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Borrowed Time
When I was younger
Living confusion and deep dispair
When I was younger ah hah
Living illusion of freedom and power
When I was younger
Full of ideas and broken dreams (my friend)
When I was younger ah hah
Everything simple but not so clear
Living on borrowed time
Without a thought for tomorrow
Living on borrowed time
Without a thought for tomorrow
Now I am older
The more that I see the less that I know for sure
Now I am older ah hah
The future is brighter and now is the hour
Living on borrowed time
Without a thought for tomorrow
Living on borrowed time
Without a thought for tomorrow
Good to be older
Would not exchange a single day or a year
Good to be older ah hah
Less complications everything clear
Living on borrowed time
Without a thought for tomorrow
Living on borrowed time
Without a thought for tomorrow
song performed by by Lennon John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Were I A Horse
A balding man my hair is gray decades ago it was brown
Were I a horse I'm sure by now that I would have been put down
I feel so very stiff and old father time is catching up on me
And I for one don't fear life's end what is to be will be.
I was not any good at sports I cannot dance and sing
I'm just your average ordinary bloke not much good at anything
They say only the good die young and I still linger on
And better people by far than I deceased, forgotten and gone.
Were I a horse I'd have been put down that may seem crude to say
But that's what happens to most horses when they have had their day
Most horses save for the lucky few not allowed to grow old and die
I feel grateful to be still around more living I'll enjoy.
Were I a horse I'd have been put down for dog or cat food maybe
The knacker takes the worn out horse the Reaper will claim me
The years on me begin to tell my fastest pace is slow
And I was in the prime of life some thirty years ago.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Getting Old
When you’re young you think you know it all
Then you get old and life begins to unfold.
In their youth they don’t think ahead
The future is something they do not dread.
They feel that everything in life they can control
They’re young and strong and very bold.
Aaaah! Those beautiful days bring back memories
Of how simple life used to be.
Youth had respect for the elderly
And their fellow man.
Now the elderly they try to scam.
When they are older they will see
They want respect and to live with dignity.
they are young and they don’t seem to understand
That with age you may need a helping hand.
Everything in life comes in stages
It’s like a book when you turn the pages
It gets deeper and keeps you enthralled
Until the time that you reach the end
And you’ve lost all your family and friends.
The First stage is when you are a child
And someone is taking care of you for that while.
The Second stage is when you become a teen
And you feel like a king or queen.
You feel that you can not get old
This is what you believe at this stage in your life
Because you’re not looking at the struggles and strife.
The Third stage is the adolescent years
And you feel you’re in control and lose your fears.
The final stage is when you become old and gray
And your youthful years have slipped away.
You look back and ask yourself!
where did All those years go?
Why did I waste so much time?
And the most important thing is
That I am so glad I made you mine
For with you by my side I had a life divine.
So to the youth who have not gotten to this stage
Don’t get angry, and get rid of your rage.
There is no way to turn back the time
For time just moves straight ahead
You’re getting to the point that you now dread.
WELCOME TO OLD AGE! HA-HA
poem by Louis Rams
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The Good Memories Of What Was
I was not any use at Gaelic Football or Soccer though I played in Millstreet Townpark in the rain
And I played Soccer in Neily Duggan's Inch Field but these things I will never do again
With my young friends for us it was enjoyment but few things in life stay the same
The fire of youth in us was burning but it now is a flickering flame
We never thought about growing older the gift of youth is a great thing
Though of the past we have our memories and till death to them we will cling
The thought that we age with the Seasons does seldom enter the young mind
But the years leave us frailer and older eternal youth not for air breathing kind
But for as long as we have the gift of memory of our prime years good memories we retain
And often in our flights of fancy the past we do visit again
I still recall the joy and laughter as we chased the football up and down
On Summer evenings often wet and windy in the Townpark of old Millstreet Town
The years leave us all looking older and the clock on our lives ticking on
But the good memories of what was bring us comfort of the past to the forever gone.
poem by Francis Duggan
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If I Could Transcend Time
If I could transcend time
This would be the time I would choose
To spend every minute with you
This now would be our time
But each day we grow older
The inevitable grows closer and closer
The lines become clearer
And you become dearer
To this time in my mind
I will always come
When the day is long
And when the night is young
I will come back here time and time again
To spend the time with you
The time is now
The time I spend with you
poem by Brian Kilpatrick
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Tatay
[To my Father, I Love You]
Under the heat of the sun or heavy rain,
I watched you plow and toil the ground,
That seems to me like it was yesterday,
Of those years we have nothing but agony;
With eight children, from twenty to five,
A widower at forty-five, you kept us alive,
But your dreams and high hopes you didn’t meet,
When the eldest began to separate;
For once in your life, it didn’t cross in your mind,
Until your youngest ones left you one by one,
And supported you with nothing but their outrage,
When you married someone, too young for your age;
But I learned to let go of my selfishness, my anger,
And admitted the fact that you’ve now grown older,
You need more help as you walk slower and slower,
While I am too far away to be with you any longer;
Yet, no matter how far the distance between you and me,
It is your love that I’ve always kept in mind,
So whenever you may be when your time will come,
Bring my love with you and forgive me for all that I’ve done.
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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Ageing father
Golden hair, yet eyes so dull
Kinda sucks growing old
Remembering things i used to do
Only then can I rid these blues
Life is great when you are young
People respect you, and life is fun
As you age, respect gets less
what happend have i became a debt
I used to bounce you on my knee
Care for you when you were three
Through your teens, i loved how you beamed
When you were twenty, my life got empty
Marriage for you, a life so new
children of your own to love
I never minded, you there mum
All i wanted was respect and love
Now im old and carnt manage a tub
A caring hand, a loving touch
Really i dont ask for much
I sit here all day and think of you
Wondering when ill see you
Im not dead im still here
Waiting for you to be near
Come spend some time with your father dear
poem by Dianne jennifer Stephens
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Love Letters
She held a pack of love letters tied with ribbons and bows.
these were the love letters that she would never show.
Every one of them was dated first to last
These were the letters that held a life past.
Times may pass and things may change
But memories stay the same.
The writing of love letters had slowly disappeared
But she held on to them from year to year.
She sat with the letters in her lap.
As the tears rolled down her eyes
He had said he would be with her
Till the day he died
And fifty years later
He met his maker
And was carried to the cemetery
by the undertaker.
The letters had been written
with tenderness and love
Proclaiming every thing
Even the stars above.
He said life was meaningless if with her
His life he could not share.
And losing her was something
he could not bear.
Now that he was gone and she
Was left all alone.
The house didn’t seem
like much of a home.
She knew her children would not understand
Why she held the love letters in her hand.
These were the memories that kept her alive
And on that she couldn’t deny.
But her mind and body was fading fast
And she knew she could not last.
So to her children she bequeathed
The letters that she cherished all her life
For that was her husband, and she was his wife.
These are the love letters that your father
Wrote to me when we were young and carefree.
He told me of all that life had to offer.
And of all the love he had for me
And that he wanted to raise a family.
When you read his letters you will know
Why I loved this man so.
And now it’s time for me to go.
Because your father awaits me on the other side
And we’ll be together for all of time
poem by Louis Rams
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As We Get Older
Sometimes I wonder why
as we get older
that times seems to fly by.
When we were, young
days never seem to end.
There was always enough time
to do everything we wanted to do,
but as you get older
there is no time anymore.
Is it the world or is it I
that find there is less time
to do all I want to do.
When I was young
I never worried about time,
but now it’s so precious
that I bless every minute and second I get.
poem by David Harris
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Old Age Remembered
I never thought it would happen to me…
so, I wouldn’t have been reading this poem…
but now it seems it has. And now
I’m writing it. Or trying to. Big mistake?
So do I have
anything worth passing on?
You know, the Polonius Balonyus stuff:
If I were your age, boy,
this is what I’d be and do, yawn zzzz….
Let’s think instead, of some more lively head
in Sunday supplement style –
‘Old Age – Tragedy or Comedy? ’
It’s just so personal, and the only one
to really weigh it up is you. Or me.
I’m wiser, happier (on the happy days)
than ever in my life; but then, who cares?
Well, maybe one or two. On the other hand,
there are few illusions left;
would one have been glad
to have no illusions, at, say, twenty years of age?
Or, to be almost beyond pain, or pleasure,
or attachments of any sort -
this in some young man
taking his vows as monk,
would be a solemn commitment for a lifetime; but
when you’re old – easier or harder then to bear?
then, short-term memory shorter, long-term memory longer -
that's wonderful - provided you have no regrets...
the memories come flooding back
of just how happy, happy childhood is...
barely remembered now, how adolescence
is the most painful time of life...
To cut a long life-story short –
the comedy’s more comic; the tragedy’s more tragic.
So I wonder how Shakespeare, having studied both
and then thrown his books away,
living a comfortable (or was it?) Stratford retirement -
a spot of bowls, a friendly pub,
grandchildren, his or of his relatives,
to keep him young or tire him out or both -
I wonder what passed through his worldspanned mind
as he passed passing time? As his time passed?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Woman Of Time
Old woman will sit there and ponder all day.
She dreams of many years gone on by.
Nobody knows what she's feeling.
As she smiles looking up at the sky.
Would it be many memories behind,
So distracted by what's in her head.
Time has passed on surely for her.
But so happy she looks instead.
Woman Of Time
She will tell you her past stories.
Yes she will continue on and on about this.
Such brightness fills her wrinkled eyes.
As she recalls her very first kiss!
She may be lonely but never alone.
A lesson we can learn from her everyday.
Life she says is so short. love one another.
This I heard her many times say.
Woman Of Time
Does she fear such short time I wonder,
She has no fear in dying or regret.
How she places her hand on mine.
It is her own words here I won't forget.
Her children are all grown up now,
She pictures each passing memory with them.
Sweet old woman you've come so far.
And so much then this, all the love you send
Woman Of Time
poem by Suelynn Walters
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