Bittersweet is age
In the end, we all die but once.
Most die but one time and one time alone.
But what tempers the sweetness of living long
Is the bitter sweetness
That the aged wearily carry to their grave.
The fact is, that the aged will have died
Many times over in their life
While the young and the innocent
…have to die only once…
poem by David Whalen
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In Silence No More
Aged 1
Aged 2
Aged 3
Aged 4
At 5 my life changed forever more,
Aged 6
Aged 7
Aged 8
Aged 9
By 10 he’d touched me a thousand times,
Aged 41
42
43
44
But now I’m not suffering in silence,
In silence anymore,
For now I’m chatting and talking,
Not crawling I’m walking,
Even though he’s still stalking,
I’m not suffering in silence,
Suffering in silence,
I’m not suffering in silence,
In silence no more.
poem by Darren Harris
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There are two barriers that often prevent communication between the young and their elders. The first is middle-aged forgetfulness of the fact that they themselves are no longer young. The second is youthful ignorance of the fact that the middle aged are still alive.
quote by Jessamyn West
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Some Bodies
Some bodies are so well lived in
they look older than their time.
Hard living has aged
every crease, wrinkle and line.
They look much older
than they really should.
Their expressions is worn out,
their laughter thin and bare.
The life they’ve lead
has taken the toll there.
The youth they should have
has disappeared without trace,
now all everyone sees is hardness,
no softness or grace.
Many things can cause this aged look upon a face,
that’s worn and tired look, long before its time.
Some say it is caused by this and that,
but no one is really sure.
Only that it happens
and it could to anyone.
21 June 2008
poem by David Harris
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Some Life’s Paradoxes
The dead can’t care about living;
The living must pray for their dead;
Though dead took care of living then,
The living can’t take care of dead!
The elderly cared for all young;
The young must care for aged when old;
The love that parents had shown then,
Can’t be repaid ever by young!
The fruits I enjoy now when young,
Are from the trees planted by aged;
The things I do to others now
Will be returned to me when old!
The measure I use for others
Will be used unto me by God;
The judgments I pronounce on next,
Will decide my after-life’s rod!
Let’s do our duty with great love;
Reward will come from heav’n above.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 20-11-2010
poem by John Celes
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Jast A Little Light
Well, there ain't nobody safer than someone who doesn't care
And it isn't even lonely when no one's ever there
I had a lot of dreams once, but some of them came true...
The honey's sometimes bitter when fortune falls on you
So you know I've been a soldier in the armies of the night
And I'll find the fatal error in what's otherwise alright
But here you're trembling like a sparrow, I will try with all my might
To give you just a little sweetness...
Just a little sweetness...
Just a little light.
I have always heard that virtue oughta be its own reward,
But it never comes so easy when you're living by the sword
It's even harder to be heartless when you look at me that way
You're as mighty as the flower that will grow the stones away
Even though I been a stranger, full of irony and spite
Holding little but contempt for all things beautiful and bright,
Something shines around you and it seems, to my delight
To give me just a little sweetness...
Just a little sweetness...
Just a little sweetness...
Just a little light.
[Bridge:]
This could be just another highway, coiled up in the night
You could be just another white-tail, baby, stranded on my brights,
There's a tingling recognition
Like the sound of distant thunder
And I begin to wonder
If the love I've driven under
Won't ignite.
So you know I've been a soldier in the armies of the night
And I'll find the fatal error in what's otherwise alright
Something shines around you that seems, to my delight
To give me just a little sweetness...
Just a little sweetness...
Just a little sweetness...
Just a little light
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just A Little Light
Well, there aint nobody safer than someone who doesnt care.
And it isnt even lonely when no ones ever there.
I had a lot of dreams once, but some of them came true...
The honeys sometimes bitter when fortune falls on you.
So you know Ive been a soldier in the armies of the night.
And Ill find the fatal error in whats otherwise all right.
But here youre trembling like a sparrow, I will try with all my might
To give you just a little sweetness...
Just a little sweetness...
Just a little light.
I have always heard that virtue ought be its own reward,
But it never comes so easy when youre living by the sword.
Its even harder to be heartless when you look at me that way.
Youre as mighty as the flower that will grow the stones away.
Even though I been a stranger, full of irony and spite
Holding little but contempt for all things beautiful and bright,
Something shines around you and it seems, to my delight
To give me just a little sweetness...
Just a little sweetness...
Just a little sweetness...
Just a little light.
This could be just another highway, coiled up in the night.
You could be just another white-tail, baby, stranded on my brights,
Theres a tingling recognition
Like the sound of distant thunder
And I begin to wonder
If the love Ive driven under
Wont ignite.
So you know Ive been a soldier in the armies of the night.
And Ill find the fatal error in whats otherwise all right.
Something shines around you that seems, to my delight
To give me just a little sweetness...
Just a little sweetness...
Just a little sweetness...
Just a little light.
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Truth In Time
I once knew a man,
An honest man, a decent man,
He told me of a time to come,
A time of understanding,
He said 'If all goes well,
You'll reach this time,
And know this time,
For time is all-commanding.'
Years had passed,
The man had died,
Still hadn't come,
A time of understanding,
So I watched time,
As life strolled by,
I peered in close,
Then time stood all but standing.
I wonder if the man had lied?
I aged quick,
Still never had,
A time of understanding,
Then hair grew gray,
And body sagged,
The hour close,
My time on earth was ending.
And quick as light,
Yet brighter still,
I finally had,
A time of understanding
I yearned for times,
Of passions great,
Though never be,
For time is all-commanding.
poem by Steven Rodgers
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The old one is expert
I bring my sexy buttocks;
Them, boys don’t know to act on.
You, the aged, must be an expert.
Turn me around and ride.
I bring my two sexy breasts;
Them, boys don’t know how to handle.
You, the aged, must be an expert.
Hold me under and kneed.
I bring my hot rosy lips;
Them, boys don’t know how to lock.
You, the aged, must be an expert.
Lift me up close and bruise.
I bring my burning lobes;
Them, boys don’t know how to pound on.
You, the aged, must be an expert.
Lay me on bed and tear.
I want a long, hard foreplay;
That boys aren’t patient to employ.
You, the aged, won’t be in hurry.
Bring me to orgasm and have glory.
26.09.2006.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Aged tree
Under the aged tree
Where we use to sing
Who is in the garden
The tree of my forefather
The unforgettable aged tree
Under the aged tree
Where we listen
To the story of our land
The dove and the jackal
An unforgettable story
Under the aged tree
Where my forefathers
Wept for freedom till death
May there soul rest in peace
And may the story of the aged tree lives in me
poem by Towobola pelumi miktobz
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Has Your Soul Sipped?
Has your soul sipped
Of the sweetness of all sweets?
Has it well supped
But yet hungers and sweats?
I have been witness
Of a strange sweetness,
All fancy surpassing
Past all supposing.
Passing the rays
Of the rubies of morning,
Or the soft rise
Of the moon; or the meaning
Known to the rose
Of her mystery and mourning.
Sweeter than nocturnes
Of the wild nightingale
Or than love's nectar
After life's gall.
Sweeter than odours
Of living leaves,
Sweeter than ardours
Of dying loves.
Sweeter than death
And dreams hereafter
To one in dearth
Or life and its laughter.
Or the proud wound
The victor wears
Or the last end
Of all wars.
Or the sweet murder
After long guard
Unto the martyr
Smiling at God;
To me was that smile,
Faint as a wan, worn myth,
Faint and exceeding small,
On a boy's murdered mouth.
Though from his throat
The life-tide leaps
There was no threat
On his lips.
But with the bitter blood
And the death-smell
All his life's sweetness bled
Into a smile.
poem by Wilfred Owen
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Sweetness
You want sweetness,
You say I have an ability to ooze?
You want sweetness available,
Anytime you choose?
You want sweetness,
Without any bitterness to taste?
I'm sorry I am not a magician at all.
A reality for you...
I can not pretend or fake!
I can't ignore the pain you caused...
Or sugarcoat you drove me to heartbreak!
I smile because I am over you.
And this happiness shown...
Is to prove to you
We are done! It's over!
We are absolutely through!
You have a nerve to come back,
Expecting a sweetness due!
You are sickened with ego...
And that is 'all' you prove!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Eyes of Age
I’m looking through the eyes of an aged man
who has lived his life the best he can.
I’ve made countless mistakes before arriving here,
suffered broken hearts and shed many a tear.
And now I see young men doing exactly the same,
making similar mistakes and suffering pain.
If only they would ask, I could save so much grief,
but their silly pride is beyond belief.
Most young people see me as a burned out old man;
but I can see as a youngster can.
I look at middle aged men and consider myself the same,
but I forget about my looks, my shape, and ageing pain.
When I see a young lady, who takes the time to smile at me,
I straighten my back, breathe in, and smile anxiously,
but then I realise I’m not a young man, so dream on old fool,
she’s only being polite and you’re beginning to drool.
Some days I’m full of energy and think I could sprint for a mile,
but after a ten paces I have to rest and catch my breath for a while.
When you become old it’s a fact that your eyes and body don’t unite,
and your memory and mind are held up by the brains delay to ignite.
I’m not ready for aging and I don’t want to get used to being old,
okay, so I’ve had a new hip, a new knee, and I’m slightly bald,
maybe I am a bit deaf, and my eyesight isn’t what it should be,
oh yes, I almost forgot - I have a lousy memory.
poem by Orlando Belo
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On William Sommers Of Bremhill
When will the grave shelter thy few gray hairs,
O aged man! Thy sand is almost run,
And many a year, in vain, to meet the sun,
Thine eyes have rolled in darkness; want and cares
Have been thy visitants from morn to morn.
While trembling on existence thou dost live,
Accept what human charity can give;
But standing thus, time-palsied, and forlorn,
Like a scathed oak, of all its boughs bereft,
God and the grave are thy best refuge left.
When the bells rung, and summer's smiling ray
Welcomed again the merry Whitsuntide,
And all my humble villagers were gay;
I saw thee sitting on the highway side,
To feel once more the warm sun's blessed beam:
Didst thou then think upon thy own gay prime,
On such a holiday, and the glad time
When thou wert young and happy, like a dream
Now perished! No; the murmured prayer alone
Rose from the trembling lips towards the Throne
Of Mercy; that ere spring returned again,
And the long winter blew its dreary blast,
To sweep the verdure from the fading plain,
Thy burden would be dropped, thy sorrows past!
O blind and aged man, bowed down with cares,
When will the grave shelter thy few gray hairs!
poem by William Lisle Bowles
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The sweetness of food doesn't last long, but the sweetness of good words do.
Bigmouth Strikes Again
Sweetness
sweetness I was only joking when I said
I'd like to smash every tooth in your head.
Oh sweetness
sweetness I was only joking when I said
by rights you should be bludgeoned in your bed.
And now I know how joan of arc felt
now I know how joan of arc felt
as the flames rose to her roman nose
and her discman started to melt
Bigmouth la da dum da da
bigmouth la da da da
song performed by by Placebo from Reinventing The Steel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bigmouth Strikes Again
Sweetness
sweetness I was only joking when I said
I'd like to smash every tooth in your head.
Oh sweetness
sweetness I was only joking when I said
by rights you should be bludgeoned in your bed.
And now I know how joan of arc felt
now I know how joan of arc felt
as the flames rose to her roman nose
and her discman started to melt
Bigmouth la da dum da da
bigmouth la da da da
song performed by by Placebo from Reinventing The Steel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ghazal 119
I don't need
a companion who is
nasty sad and sour
the one who is
like a grave
dark depressing and bitter
a sweetheart is a mirror
a friend a delicious cake
it isn't worth spending
an hour with anyone else
a companion who is
in love only with the self
has five distinct characters
stone hearted
unsure of every step
lazy and disinterested
keeping a poisonous face
the more this companion waits around
the more bitter everything will get
just like a vinegar
getting more sour with time
enough is said about
sour and bitter faces
a heart filled with desire for
sweetness and tender souls
must not waste itself with unsavory matters
Aged.
The aged.
Shuffling, snuffling ruffling.
Like leaves fallen from a tree.
Losing their colour
Gradually.
Washed up like memories
That float in the bay.
Grey.
The aged.
Young at heart
But their house is dilapidated.
Falling apart,
Decor not anticipated,
When they were 21.
Laughing in the sun.
Done.
The aged.
Wheezing, freezing seizing
From head to toe.
And waiting is so slow.
Burning candle low.
Awaiting one last blow.
Creaking,
Leaking.
The family turning away.
Ships pass in the night,
Never stay.
You're not drowning,
You're waving goodbye.
Sigh.
The aged,
That rage in silence.
Evaporate.
As the embers
Die in the grate.
Their cry
This world cannot hear.
They wait with toes curled in fear.
But-
Love soothes their soul.
As the Lord takes control.
And they roll
With the tide of the air.
In the light
That had sprung from nowhere.
On the promise
Of long ago prayer.
So prepare.
poem by Kevin East
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Forever Saying Goodbye
we are forever saying goodbye
goodbye, goodbye, goodbye let me repeat
the child who has grown into a young man
would remain a fond memory, like how we remember
a childhood friend who was always at our side
the young man who has matured into the middle aged
will remember him as someone who have looked
for so many things in thirty years only to get
only some things; a trail of disappointments to
spice up his memory as he bade the young man goodbye
the middle aged suddenly discovers that he
is not as young anymore, his eyes, his legs,
his hair, his stamina have all started to nag to him
that they are not as before, taking duties
promptly and without shortcoming; they have
all taken a turn for the the middle aged
who will soon teach his children happiness is the
best medicine of all and that life should be
focussed on finding that without hurting anyone
the octogenarian takes over the the steps
of the middled age and they have slowed
so much sometimes he cannot even do it
without the help of someone or a stick
the octogenarian who will tell us that a life
of charity is better than one lived alone;
an all important lesson from the silver haired who will
soon bid goodbye to himself, the world and us all
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The Little Book
When the beloved disciple took
The angels' little open book,
Which by the Lord's command he eat,
It tasted bitter after sweet.
Thus when the gospel is embraced,
At first 'tis sweeter to the taste
Than honey, or the honey-comb,
But there's a bitterness to come.
What sweetness does the promise yield,
When by the Spirit's power sealed?
The longing soul is filled with good,
Nor feels a wish for other food.
By these inviting tastes allured,
We pass to what must be endured;
For soon we find it is decreed,
That bitter must to sweet succeed.
When sin revives and shows its pow'r.
When Satan threatens to devour,
When God afflicts and men revile,
We drag our steps with pain and toil.
When thus deserted, tempest-tossed,
The sense of former sweetness lost;
We tremble lest we were deceived
In thinking that we once believed.
The Lord first makes the sweetness known,
To win and fix us far his own;
And though we now some bitter meet,
We hope for everlasting sweet.
poem by John Newton
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