Thesis, Antithesis, and Synthesis
Thesis
The sixth age shifts to 'slipper'd pantaloon,
'shrunk shank and childish trebles in pipe'line,
slight space to trace ambitions in decline,
and 'hungry generations' tread' is no cartoon
reflected echo for sage or buffoon.
The die is cast, as pride before the fall
sends shadow shivers over summer's prime,
on autumn's outcome none now bet a dime
as winter wins blank cheque and blanker wall.
The voice for choice Alzheimer claims, no hand
stalls 'moving finger', makes up for time lacked,
signs devil's pact ensuring second act, -
the writing on that wall precedes Death's pall, -
leaves ten to add to three score then the night
draws curtains, guarantees no further flight.
Antithesis
Three hundred years ago few forty passed.
Men, wars, and women childbirth, both disease,
or accident, went west through fate's decrees,
forgotten faces breathed forgotten last.
Few now face sixty palsied and aghast,
for life expectancy at eighty sees
most in the West hale, hearty 'if you please! '
with those in lands less favoured long outcast.
Yet who now flirt with sixty's certainties
could well outlive old Nestor, breast Time's seas
with knowledge that activities which fast
faded, failed, in future may contrast
with fears for years and tears for biers, may 'seize
the day' with confidence that life
may buy more time amid this vail of strife.
Synthesis
Sixty need not be point of no return,
maturity salutes a second spring,
welcomes unexpected joys within,
adds spice to life as onwards cycles turn.
Much hangs upon sustaining will to learn,
where voice for choice rings true, can span time's spin
enhancing both enjoyment, will to win,
While some soon snuff, still many candles burn
bright into night and true respect may earn.
There is no date of weight, no wait, no sin -
save disrespect for self - as trust may twin
with Time to eke new innings, spurn concern.
This sythesis still presupposes Man
must make his peace with Nature, excess ban!
(13 July 2007)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Related quotes
Every Living Thing Barring Mother Nature
They may be very famous people and leave their footprints in the sands of time
And their legends may live on for centuries and even outlive the poet's rhyme
But their fame won't live on forever though them the masses celebrate
For every living thing barring Mother Nature has on it set a time date.
Every living thing barring Mother Nature will eventually go into decay
And even from history's pages be lost and forgotten one day
Suppose that's what makes all things equal and whether we are buried or burn
Mother Nature is there to receive us and to her bosom we'll return.
All of my best years behind me and I've lived most of my time span
Less than two years short of sixty soon I will be an old man
Every day nearer the last day that is the end for us all
To us then it will not matter if the living our names won't recall.
Every living thing barring Mother Nature must bow to old father time
And though the achievements of some great people may outlive the great poet's rhyme
Their fame has on it a time date it has often been said before
That only herself Mother Nature will live on forever more.
poem by Francis Duggan
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At Sixty
At sixty, one will surely find
There is a very little trace
Of fleeting dreams in aging minds -
What's left is just some empty space.
At sixty, one finds excess time
For sadness and regrets,
For unshed tears were lost in years -
A place gray memories are set.
At sixty, there is little hope
To mend the pained and broken heart,
The failing sight now try to grope
At all the prospects that depart.
At sixty, prayers lost and said
Like ghosts now randomly returning -
Each night, as one there lays in bed
To God his peace he will be making.
'To man belong the plans of the heart,
But from the Lord comes the reply of the tongue.'
Proverbs 16: 1
................................ ................................................. .....................
Copyright Cynthia Buhain-Baello
July 24,2009
Philippines
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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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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Firewalls
Adapt to writing on the wall,
respond, react not, and recall
that Nature tries to overturn
the status quo, so learn to spurn
rigidity which all in all loses touch with base.
Some species rise to swiftly fall,
lose ground to others, Nature's call
plays games with all as cycles turn,
return to nothingness and burn
idols which before Time's squall held pride of place.
Yet Nature's churning free-for-all
recuts Life's cards, acts to forestall
stagnation as new species learn
to thrive from niche advantage, earn
some space to find the wherewithal to old replace.
Observe the Himalayan wall
trace trilobites in steep Nepal
call all to witness, deep discern,
the folly mind-sets rigid yearn
adjourning evolution, stall 'to save the race'.
All systems needing overhaul
at any time tend to install
firewall tools, or sempiterne
defensive mechanisms burn
their bridges, fall self-defeating victims to Time's chase.
Omar Khayyam assured 'The ball
no questions asks' both great and small,
iron clad, fruit fly, must return
to dust from dust, as atoms earn
a chance to dance again with grace.
(28 April 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Decline of Life
School days seemed
to last for ever,
when in the spring-
time of our life.
Friends so many
we had as young
people, we were
just gilded youth.
We descended into
the summer time
of our youth,
dreams of hope.
Marriage came
for some,
others passed by,
life went on anyhow.
Life is like
a freeway,
going by so,
fast.
Fall of our life
has arrived on time,
as were working
harder than ever.
Decline of life
is moving toward
us, with no hope
of stopping it.
Sooner or later
we all reach
this place
in the road of life.
Retired are we
now, finding things
to do in this
winter time of life.
Decline of life
is here on schedule,
the winter is over,
and so are we.
To H.a.b. On My Forty-seventh Birthday
WHEN one is forty years and seven,
Is seven and forty sad years old,
He looks not onward for his Heaven,
The future is too blank and cold,
Its pale flowers smell of graveyard mould;
He looks back to his lifeful past;
If age is silver, youth is gold:-
Could youth but last, could youth but last!
He turns back toward his youthful past
A-throb with life and love and hope,
Whose long-dead joys in memory last,
Whose shining days had ample scope;
He turns and lingers on the slope
Whose dusk leads down to sightless death:-
The sun once crowned that darkening cope,
And song once thrilled this weary breath.
Ali, he plods wearily to death,
Adown the gloaming into night,
But other lives breathe joyous breath
In morning's boundless golden light;
Their feet are swift, their eyes are bright,
Their hearts beat rhythms of hope and love,
Their being is a pure delight
In earth below and heaven above.
And you have hope and joy and love,
And you have youth's abounding life,
Whose crystal currents flow above
The stones and sands of care and strife.
May all your years with joys be rifc,
May you grow calmly to your prime,
A maiden sweet, a cherished wife,
A happy mother in due time.
All good you wish me, past my prime,
I wish with better hope to you,
And richer blessings than old Time
And Fate or Fortune found my due:
For you are kind and good and true,
And so when you are forty-seven
May spouse and children in your view
Make Home the happiest life-long Heaven.
poem by James Thomson
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Grandfather Clock
The old grandfather clock stood in the hall
It kept time for us all
Through winter, spring, summer, fall
When I was young I would say
The big hand is on five today
and that's how I told time that way
As I progressed in age
Time was read in the correct usage
And time became more of a gauge
Time to go to school and learn
Time to work for what you earn
Time to leave no stone unturned
Time for weddings dresses worn
Time for children to be born
Time for graduation gowns adorned
Time for me, time for you
Time to see things through
Time for living and dieing too
The old grandfather clock still keeps time
Counting the hours that life is prime
So make the most or be left behind
Life Is Lovely All the Year
When the buds are blossoming,
Smiling welcome to the spring,
Lovers choose a wedding day -
Life is love in merry May!
Spring is green - Fal lal la!
Summer's rose - Fal lal la!
It is sad when Summer goes,
Fal la!
Autumn's gold - Fal lal la!
Winter's grey - Fal lal la!
Winter still is far away -
Fal la!
Leaves in Autumn fade and fall;
Winter is the end of all.
Spring and summer teem with glee:
Spring and summer, then, for me!
Fal la!
In the Spring-time seed is sown:
In the Summer grass is mown:
In the Autumn you may reap:
Winter is the time for sleep.
Spring is hope - Fal lal la!
Summer's joy - Fal lal la!
Spring and Summer never cloy,
Fal la!
Autumn, toil - Fal lal la!
Winter, rest - Fal lal la!
Winter, after all, is best -
Fal la!
Spring and summer pleasure you,
Autumn, ay, and winter, too -
Every season has its cheer;
Life is lovely all the year!
Fal la!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Ceiling of Life
I want so many years, fifty, sixty;
More than death, more than life;
When we have an unexpected ceiling
Tumble down on us.
I want to see your hair after so many years,
In the glow after lands have passed
My forever journey has kept a sin
So well until half-light turns to darkness.
I want to learn like a trance,
An exit to heaven is the desirability,
The only dear journey,
The one flight I have hair for.
poem by Naveed Akram
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One
We are the lost
The ones forgotten
And this time
The future is our's
It's in our hands
We're the tear in your eyes
We're the blood in your vains
We're the beat of your heart
We're the sweat on your face
We're the ones that you chase
We're the promise that you made
We're the voice in your head
We're the lies that you said
We're the kids that you pushed away
We are
We are the the lost
The ones forgotten
And this time
The future is our's
It's in our hands
We are one
We're the pride of your lives
We're the light shining deep in your eyes
We're the choice that you made
We're the smile on your face
When you sleep at night
We're the best thing you had
But you left us behind
We're the kids that you pushed away
We are
We are the the lost
The ones forgotten
And this time
The future is our's
It's in our hands
We are one
One
We're the pain that you feel
We're the scars that don't heal
We're the tear in your eyes
We're the reason you cry
We're the voice in your head
We're the lies that you said
We're the best thing you had
But you pushed us away
We are the lost
The ones forgotten
And this time
The future is our's
It's in our hands
We are
We are the lost
The ones forgotten
And we've got nothing to lose
Together we stand up tall
We are one
song performed by by Simple Plan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Month July
That year...
Autumn months soon fade away
Spring rains skip town and leave no trace
But sun shone bright that summer day
When I first met you, face to face
It seemed as if no time had passed
'Til we were talking night and day
But summer never seems to last
And with time came our separate ways.
Years come and go, but moments stay
Hold with us through the stinging snow
Moments thought of night and day
Things I long to let you know.
Lifechanger, hero, mentor, friend
I could label you, but why?
The memories will never end
Thoughts linger, of that month July.
poem by Brittany Speetles
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[H]our Glass - 1899 - after Richard Seymour - The Hour Glass
Toon's climb, boon's dread, boom's rhyme soon sped,
life's little dream theme tale
dew's wed with glue wed to cue clue thread -
though seeming strong, so frail.
Till naught's in store to add to more,
Time's ebbing sands fall fast;
Fate syphons for_age metaphor,
forgotten mirage past.
Billed for arrears, filled, empty years,
emotions' vain commotion,
birth earthed blame's biers; berthed fame's career's
proverbial dropp in ocean.
With wave goodbye, grave severed tie
hung on some sunbeam stalling
beyond last sigh what stays? Vain cry,
culled empty echo calling.
Love lost, love won with one-to one,
true faithfulness through trust,
find once begun through time have run
to often turn rust dust.
Nor fears, nor tears, resist Time's shears,
nor all we hope and dream
remains, soon unstained mirror clears,
wipes slate of great, small, steam.
As variation on a theme
some karmic call, some mortal,
rum sliver stream glum shivers - gleam
in void, avoid death's portal.
What's life? ‘brief candle', shadow mocked,
from infant's first cry, chortle,
through code adopt to blocks unlock,
to last laugh coda shortfall.
For age or forage
The Hour Glass
Of hours to come and hours long sped
The never-ending tale
Hangs on a slender running thread -
So strong and yet so frail.
The less is added to the more,
The ebbing sands run fast;
Time drains the future's dwindling store
And gives it to the past.
Not all our tears and prayers, alas!
Not all we hope and dream
Shall e'er invert that measured glass
And turn the golden stream.
Richard Surgis Seymour
(28 August 2009)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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How Many Seconds In A Minute?
How many seconds in a minute?
Sixty, and no more in it.
How many minutes in an hour?
Sixty for sun and shower.
How many hours in a day?
Twenty-four for work and play.
How many days in a week?
Seven both to hear and speak.
How many weeks in a month?
Four, as the swift moon runneth.
How many months in a year?
Twelve the almanack makes clear.
How many years in an age?
One hundred says the sage.
How many ages in time?
No one knows the rhyme.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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The Future Song
Life brings on unexpected changes
But we must carry on despite it
Are we gonna try
Are we gonna make it
Why is love so very hard
Why is peace so very far
I cant make it
The future of our space and time
Is not gonna wither and die
The future of our space and time
Is not gonna say goodbye
We cant control all our situations
And we cant console underpriviledged
Nations
So why dont we try
To make more smiling faces
Were so full of disregards
We feel pain within our hearts
I cant take it
The future of our space and time
Is not gonna wither and die
The future of our space and time
Is not gonna say goodbye
So Im calling out
Out to all he races
We cant gain control
Without communication
And we need to learn for future generations
There is a future in our stars
There is beauty that is ours
Were gonna make it
The future of our space and time
Is not gonna wither and die
The future of our space and time
Is not gonna say goodbye
song performed by by Vanessa Paradis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Future Song
Written by: lenny kravitz
Life brings on unexpected changes
But we must carry on despite it
Are we gonna try
Are we gonna make it
Why is love so very hard
Why is peace so very far
I cant make it
The future of our space and time
Is not gonna wither and die
The future of our space and time
Is not gonna say goodbye
We cant control all our situations
And we cant console underpriviledged
Nations
So why dont we try
To make more smiling faces
Were so full of disregards
We feel pain within our hearts
I cant take it
The future of our space and time
Is not gonna wither and die
The future of our space and time
Is not gonna say goodbye
So Im calling out
Out to all he races
We cant gain control
Without communication
And we need to learn for future generations
There is a future in our stars
There is beauty that is ours
Were gonna make it
The future of our space and time
Is not gonna wither and die
The future of our space and time
Is not gonna say goodbye
song performed by by Lenny Kravitz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Survival Of Love
On a mid-winter's night
when the stars were bright
a stranger came into town.
As he looked around
it was then that he found
that all of the ground was white.
It was beautiful to see
and he wondered if she
would be looking out at the snow?
All the time he'd been gone
as he approached the front lawn,
he prayed that there she would be.
His hands were so cold.
They were wrinkled and old
but they remembered the feel of her face.
So much time had passed by.
Many tears they did cry,
not knowing what their future did hold,
In between all the years
there'd been so many tears
not knowing where he did go?
He'd been hit on the head
robbed and then left for dead.
but survived and as his head clears
He cannot recall
who he is at all.
No memories of whom he had been.
What was his name?
Was he insane?
Amnesia had created a wall.
He had a wife
who prayed for his life,
never giving up hope he'd return.
Every day she would go
and look out at the snow
as the years had brought nothing but strife.
Not knowing at all that his amnesia's wall
came suddenly crumbling down.
He remembered his past.
He traveled there fast
and he came to the town of snowfall.
As he approached in the snow
she was at the window,
looking at what she thought was a ghost.
Trembling to see
Was it really he?
She opened the door very slow.
She felt his hand.
His hand held a strand
of her hair that was white like the snow.
They couldn't let go
for they both did know
that their lives ended just as God planned.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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In Finite Terms - 0987
When Fate's soft tick flicks safely by
when fête holds sway old Time must fly
"and not a cloud obscures the sky"
why worry, pleasure now deny?
For joys tomorrow soul soars high.
True, some are smitten, springs run dry,
yet few heed inner warning cry.
to mist dimiss, wave Time goodbye.
Fate may be written, it may lie,
behind the veil is passing sigh,
more is assumed in store so why
seek answers which no gold can buy.
For, if there's more, hope cannot die,
if nothing, then why worry, high
and low in turn their fate defy,
then wave forgot sink twixt sea, sky.
Life's transience, quite underrated,
too rarely is appreciated
as if the spirits, once elated,
could keep their thrust unmitigated.
What lies beyond the tombstone dated
has never been elucidated,
though many have prevaricated
redemption offer unabated.
Yet dances led, with lead unweighted,
quickstep through life, Death unawaited.
Why worry if the dice are weighted
with finite term anticipated?
When Time speeds up and hell-for-leather
is pressured onwards, storm tossed feather.
how drear each day to wonder whether
tomorrow's game we'll play together!
Ignored too often altogether
are ice-burst pipes in balmy weather,
or sacrificial goat on tether,
when life's free run on hill, vale, heather.
Dim is victim's prescience
despite disaster's imminence,
secure perception complements
self-satisfaction's arguments.
Men draw their sense of permanence
from self-supporting evidence
behind life's surface comforts whence
much is drawn, save diffidence.
Life's patterns in advance may churn
a warning aura we discern
through experience, concern,
here cause, effect, respect must earn
before anxieties return
to haunt, to taunt, or bridges burn.
Life's patterns in advance who turn
to true advantage, all peace yearn.
Unwise who'll sapless, saphead, spurn
the hints that candles one can't burn
at both ends long. Yet each must learn
alone wheels turn. Urn soon we earn.
How much of man's self-confidence
is self-sustaining self-defence,
a mechanism fear prevents
although at prudence expense.
The coin cards of coincidence,
that noise to others represents,
turn to advantage, making sense
of elements which signs dispense
which seed the sentiment events
may be controlled as 'whither' 'whence'
seem linked by dream intelligence
that lasts although we're hurried hence.
When cloud free shines the morning star
dawn's rose grows gold, presumes too far,
as if no shadow near or far
could compromise success, could jar,
could ever dowse life's vital fire,
as if, once launched, the poet's lyre
could chant forever and inspire,
nor bore nor jaw resentful ire.
Man's pride still heeds the siren call
til morn when free flight turns free fall.
that day one lesson learns, that small
sweet seems to gleam when night threats all.
Then narrow the circumference
of independence seems, intense
the pressure, the predicaments,
when arguments can't influence,
invalidate or overturn,
decisions others would confirm,
when former freedoms won't return
to light horizons dim and tern.
Those who rely on providence
too soon may find at their expense
that everlasting affluence
rhymes rarely with experience.
There is no 'Ave' no 'Marie',
no Eden for eternity.
Perjured he who'd guarantee
an endless hour in houri spree.
There is no golden throne and grand
when falls life's last coarse grain of sand
[the spectre of reign's written hand
of course reins in things out of hand].
There's no white rabbit, magic hat,
no second innings where the bat
defies Time's ball. When that is that!
dreams of karmic streams fall flat.
When Fate's hand, tricked and trumped, turns black
dark Present weighs, no turning back
to glories past. When cares attack
fair opportunities all lack.
Reflect! Each given day completed
is stay of execution greeted
before the final judgement meted
when hope for fair appeal's defeated.
Reflect! What future radiance shines
For anyone beyond life's lines?
Enjoy today! The Present signs
itself, as Cause Effect aligns.
(16 Febuary 2002)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Sixty-eighth
The spring had risen and shone on your head
The summer had burned and wrinkled your skin
The autumn had fell in your brain
The winter had been your memories day
Friend is only you
I'm wilt without you as if a flower never took a shower all day long, life on desert
I fall again and again
I lay stretched out beside your pile of earth
Tear concealed my body asunder
Please, don't go!
Sixty-eight
The rain is pouring down in my face
The colours of rainbow is shining on your coffin
More to questions, yet more to believe
Finally taking my fist down
The time had come
Now that you're gone
My spring is your lucky weather
My summer-sweet day is only one minute
My Autumn wasn't your end of year
And my winter will never be your day
I'm shouting to the world
Where is my gentry?
Would it be untrue or wrong to say 'Home is where my family is; home sweet home', so cruelly
I just want to see a piece of sky
Where's your gentle heart?
Who is presiding over that case?
Can't you be more fair?
I'm just a little kid that don't know what is life for
I just needed them for one reason
Please, bring him back home
Sixty-eighth
I will be missing you
Your name in my lips will never stopping
Your face in my brain will never forgeting
There will be memories at my sleeve
Caused i'm loving you
Daddy
poem by Taylor Downs
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Warning
I remember I was asking why
And someday you said Id know
All these years, of fighting hard
And now its finally come too close
I cant believe its now happening to me
Oh, couldnt it wait a few hundred years
Destiny cant rest you see, now its time
Time to cry your tears! now cry!
The child of centuries, forgotten in time
You talk in circles of rhyme
Seer of places future and past
The warning you gave us is surely our last
Warning!
Behold the child, his pointing hand
Is raised in solemn grace
His eyes once wide with learning wonder
Now leave stains upon his face
Now see the hands of the working man
Hes leaning back against the wall
Once busy hands are idle now
Standing ready for the fall! our fall!
The signs will come as days past by
For those that claim to see
The blind will stay not choosing to die
Not believing the visions Ive seen
Warning!
song performed by by Queensryche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lost Father...
he was once a priest here
having a disagreement with the bishop
he went on board
took time to rehearse life in Florida
took some time riding moments in San Francisco
onward Chicago
moving East and then West
and landed a job
loading Goods,
in his sixty
he posed half nude in a picture
taken by his
part time girlfriend
no commitment he said
because life
is one flitting moment
unable to
stay at a fixed point
he posted the pic
in facebook
i guess, and this is my opinion
i looks
pitiful.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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