With Eyes Remembered
It's not a sin for those,
Who distance themselves...
As far as they can,
From the ticking of a clock.
Is it?
What about those who make attempts,
To get that ticking to be stopped?
With confirmations sought,
That an aging process...
Has completely forgotten them!
And as long as they moisturize,
And Sun block their skins...
They will keep Mother Nature guessing,
For years without end.
However...
With suggestions made,
To avoid further Botox treatments...
To allow a natural appearance,
A chance to return to their faces again!
Maybe with eyes remembered,
Attached to a recognized grin.
This alone will silence the complaining,
That aging ungracefully on some has shown.
'Yes...
Of course I remember you!
You and my grandmother were good friends.'
~No!
Larry?
You and I went to high school together.~
'OH!
Oh...
OH?
Uh...
Oh!
It's a beautiful day,
Isn't it? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
I See My Friends Aging
I see my friends aging
Slower in all they do-
The wrinkles and the hesitations before not remembering,
The difficulties in things done so easily once-
I see my friends aging
Sicker and sadder
Their eyes in some strange distance-
Some of them courageous
With plans and trips and grandchildren,
Endlessly going and doing
And being the best they can-
I see my friends aging
And wonder how long I too can pretend
Its still alright-
At this time of life
Time is cruel
And we are going only one way-
I see my friends aging
And I will soon if I am still here
Walker cane wheelchair
Be ancient too.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Tickin Away
The clock above the bar
Is telling me its 12:15
And its not such a gentle reminder
That Im where I shouldnt be
I just keep waiting for something to happen
Waiting for somebody to come walking in
Somebody as perfect as you were
So I can try it again
(but) chances are so hard to come by
And the second one is impossible to find
The clock keep running
And the odds keep getting higher
That its all just a fantasy of mine
But I shouldnt be thinking about it
I shouldnt be worried about it
Its just a clock on the wall
But its ticking away
Its ticking away
Its ticking away
Its ticking away
I suppose I should cut all my losses
Go home with a six-pack of beer
There aint nobody in the world like you baby
If there was, she wouldnt be coming in here
But I shouldnt be thinking about it
I shouldnt be worried about it
Its just a clock on the wall
But its ticking away
Its ticking away
Its just a clock on the wall
But its ticking away
Yeah, its ticking away
Its ticking away
Its just a clock on the wall
But its ticking away
I suppose I should cut all my losses
Go home with a six-pack of beer
song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Baby Love-Angelina's Story
If time has elasticity
then stretch it across my love's heart
in the dead of night
make it stop as we try
to make our baby.
Now three years of trying.
Make it stop my aging.
Grant me the time;
reverse the ticking clock
inside my womb.
I want this baby.
I cannot be the barren woman.
Take this ticking clock
and silence it.
Translate
my husband's love into
baby bouncing
free.
Let me hear
baby's cry.
He said
'We could always adopt.'
And I said
'I guess we could
but it wouldn't be the same.'
So strong is baby love
so strong this longing
I'll not sleep again this night:
tiny hands
tiny face
in my dreams;
reaching out.
I have this baby love
yearning for my own
tiny hands and arms
reaching out to me.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Your Visit With Aging
I don't know why,
You believed I was older than you.
I use to be.
But you and aging have become much closer.
And it seems as if you have been convinced,
To interpret every year you have lived as a struggle.
I'm not trying to interpret my life that way at all.
When aging came to visit me,
I told it to make itself at home.
And if I choose to do what I please...
I'm not making an effort to be rude.
But neither am I going to sit with it to reminisced,
The good old days.
Too much everyday for me is new!
And...
I didn't feel I had to excuse myself from it to explore.
I just do.
You on the other hand...
Seem to want to impress aging,
As a depiction you believe is an acceptable process.
Hey,
We all have our interpretations.
However...
Yours appears to be a bit exaggerated.
But I aint mad at you!
What your visit with aging is like.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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“Our Clock Of Midnight”(An Acrostic)
Our clock of midnight ticking around
Undiscovered love can hear the sound
Repressed desire lying underground
Certainly this rare love can never be found
Loneliness covers the dusk to adorn
Outcry from the dark quells the forlorn
Crying out for light in the name of the dark
Keeps the distance between fire and spark
Our clock of midnight still ticking around
For we are far away but we can be found
Miles apart yet our minds can be seen
In reality can we make a blue night green?
Don’t want this clock ever to stop ticking
Noiselessness into heart where it’s been sticking
Indissoluble feeling we can feel so deep
Glimmering hope in our souls we reap
Here we lay down in the midst of dream
The clock of our midnight is our time supreme.
poem by Munia Khan
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Witnessing As I Live
I have never before been given the opportunity,
To rehearse the process of aging.
Some would have others believe,
They are gifted with the expertise.
And already know what it is like.
I don't.
I am witnessing as I live my life...
With a wisdom I have never known.
And mysterious aches I feel in my bones,
As if done to remind me...
'Something' seeks attention and wishes it shown.
I have never before been given the opportunity,
To rehearse the process of aging.
But I must admit,
The process is interesting.
Although...
Being around those who announce their pains,
Is more aggravating than anything else.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Winter Song
I know you now for a thousand years,
Your body still feels nice and warm to me.
The sun is old, the winters cold,
The lake is shining like a drop of buddhas tears.
The mountains lie in a distance
Like the future wed never reach
And I kept my warmth with your body close.
The world must be dead,
We must be the only heads
Ticking on the hillside like a leftover timebomb.
I know you now for what you are,
And my mind still goes through ups and downs with yours.
The moon is clear, the room is bare,
The bed is shining like an old scripture
Thats never been opened before
And I keep my warmth with your mind close.
The world must be dead,
We must be the only heads
Ticking in a farmhouse like a forgotten timebomb.
One day we discovered that the clock was not ticking anymore,
And our bodies kept spreading rapidly like a very, very fine tissue
Until it stretched over the whole wide world.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time Clock
we all have a time clock ticking every moment
of every day.
until the last gasp of breath
which slowly slips away.
so while here on this earth
use every second that goes by.
for we pass through this world but once
no matter how we try.
we will be remembered by friends and family
for the goodness when we care.
for that is something that they'll always share.
when you share the joys and sorrows
the heartaches and the pain
the warmth and tenderness that you feel
for them is still the same.
open up your heart for all the world to see
that what you have locked up inside
has finally been set free.
enjoy life to the fullest
for there is no turning back
the time clock keeps on ticking
and does'nt ease up the slack.
poem by Louis Rams
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Of A Once Natural Process
Ointments.
Moisturizers.
Facelifts and tummy tucks...
May slow the appearance,
Of a once natural process.
But a tock heard from a clock that ticks...
Does not stop,
To acknowledge any of these efforts.
No matter what one is told to feed and sell.
Those who accept and face aging...
Often live well when not dwelling on looks!
And those dwelling on looks,
Are most likely hooked on receiving compliments.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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No Wish to Fill a Vacancy
How did I stop what?
Aging?
As Long as I live and breathe...
Doing 'that' by anyone today,
You can say is an impossibility.
However...
I have stopped seeking aggravation.
And sharing with others,
Headaches they could not wait
To dump updated complaints to relate.
I've stopped sitting to get return calls...
I placed to those,
Who had forgotten I had called at all.
I have made myself number one on my priority list.
And no longer dismiss my own happiness.
That is probably what you now see in me!
An attitude I don't hestitate to give and leave...
In a belief I should please others I care about,
Who have shown me they could care less...
If I am down and out.
Or mugged or mauled,
As I lay half dead on one knee as I crawled.
There is nothing like being shown,
Who has what or who on their minds and when!
That removes wrinkles and stops a frown,
From taking up residency on my face and skin!
And that is probably what you see.
An absence of that.
With no wish to fill a vacancy!
'I 'hope' God reminds me to just say 'hello'
The next time I bump into you.
Have a great day!
And 'who' should 'we' thank...
That you have no 'ego' in the way? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Her Insomnia
this is a private affair
between her and her wall clock
there is this consistent rhythm
of the tick tock tick tock
her pupils roll and sometimes
still
staring at the walls of the house
restless she avails of all the possible
combination of postures
but to no avail
the clock keeps on ticking and ticking and ticking
she feels like a tick
and she cannot talk
this is her private affair with her wall clock
above her head
her mouth is closed shaped like
a lamppost
without a light.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Stages
First of all...
I know it's not just all about me.
Only in my mind I am told.
And that seems to be aging rapidly!
As a glowing youth...
Dims to be conquered,
By an aging truth!
Overnight it seems.
Although many may refuse to agree with me.
Those into appearances and physicalities!
I am not one to be talking about looks...
But let me say this,
No pages flipped through books
Prepares anyone for the stages of aging.
Or when to apply a night cheek lift!
To become disappointed with the results,
That sit unresisting to stay for a long visit!
Compliments on maintaining a youthfulness,
Stirs those in doubt about what is really meant...
By those unsolicited comments sent!
But pleased to get them without resentment.
There are those who may defy this process.
But when it noticibly starts...
A feeling of achievement begins to arrive,
Or a time gone by so quickly is realized!
Which gets many into denial fits!
Horrified that the time has come...
And that they too can not escape from this!
When a passing glance in a mirror,
Becomes a lingering stare...
What is seen is obvious.
And we all must become aware...
An aging has taken place,
To stay on one's face...
Not to go anywhere,
But to etch and trace.
Hopefully some allow...
And undergo with grace.
That's the reality of these stages we go through!
At least 'some' do.
The ones who are not moisturizing...
To rid a wrinkle,
Or two.
OR...
Those of us who make a fuss,
About a delayed aging process ordered...
Taking too long to come and is much overdue!
A special delivery was paid to insure a rush!
To subdue those lines that accrue...
With the stages of age some welcome unphased!
Praying this amazement of a quick aging,
Fades away!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Waiting For Hours
Not a clock heard ticking with a tock,
Is doing it slower at one's advantage...
To block the stopping of procrastination.
However...
Nothing prevents a hand to reach out,
For a muffin to stuff a mouth.
OR a burger with a side order of greasy fries,
To find its way to satisfy taste buds.
And people can be seen waiting for hours,
Patiently...
To get their hotdog topped with sauerkraut.
Not a clock heard ticking with a tock,
Is doing it slower at one's advantage...
To block the stopping of procrastination.
And yet...
People give more time in the doing of it,
But will stand in line for days without a single complaint...
To pay to entertain themselves with an array of nonsense.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Dust Collector
Not as close to center.
And away from the spotlight,
On life's stage.
This becomes evident and noticed,
By the one who becomes of age.
And having it one's way...
Is given.
Without swaying any one's opinion.
'Hey why not?
They are not going to be around here,
That long! '
~They who?
I'm aging too and so are you!
IF you're 'lucky'.~
A withering in appearance,
Is experienced as this 'blessing' occurs.
And the one who goes through the process adapts.
Since encouraging words seem to overflow as heard!
Coming from those still in their youth.
'You seem to be lost!
Do you need help crossing the street? '
~I need no help.
I happen to be thinking of a new recipe,
Thank you! ~
Reminding those who are aging...
How brave it is to have that much nerve,
To allow it to show and be done.
Leaving those in their youth,
Stunned by someone over the age of '31'...
Loving the act of aging!
'Mister, I heard you.
And you are well over '31'.
You are old enough to be my grandfather.'
~And I am willing to bet,
Your 'grandfather' never suggested...
Kids like yourself,
Need to learn how to mind your own business.
I could care less about you being in the spotlight.
I can shine just as bright and with more lustre without it.~
'Listen up...dust collector!
I don't have to pay you any attention at all,
Old man!
Wrap that around those aching bones and wrinkles.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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No one can avoid aging, but aging productively is something else.
quote by Katharine Graham
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Acceptance Heals
Acceptance heals!
A willingness to just let go...
To be a part of a natural process,
Reveals an ability to face the truth...
For what it is and means.
Without the need,
Of foolish protective measures.
Some wish to stop to grow.
To direct with a decision...
To have things go their way.
Blocking the experience of a natural adventure.
As if the ticking of a clock,
Depends on a decision made.
Since time itself...
Is a creation of man.
And where man stands...
Has nothing to do,
With the evolution of nature.
And nature awaits...
Such dictates!
Acceptance heals!
A willingness to just let go...
To be a part of a natural process,
Reveals an ability to face the truth...
For what it is and means.
Without the need,
Of foolish protective measures.
And those foolish protective measures,
Keeps a wounded mind...
With no peace to find.
Acceptance heals.
Like one's faith,
Eliminates...
A stunted life that wastes away,
In anticipation to have a stubbornness validated.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Songs To Aging Children Come
Through the windless wells of wonder
By the throbbing light machine
In a tea leaf trance or under
Orders from the king and queen
Songs to aging children come
Aging children, I am one
People hurry by so quickly
Dont they hear the melodies
In the chiming and the clicking
And the laughing harmonies
Songs to aging children come
Aging children, I am one
Some come dark and strange like dying
Crows and ravens whistling
Lines of weeping, strings of crying
So much said in listening
Songs to aging children come
Aging children, I am one
Does the moon play only silver
When it strums the galaxy
Dying roses will they will their
Perfumed rhapsodies to me
Songs to aging children came
This is one
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Listening To The Clock Ticking
that last servant of the house
finally leaves
she also had to go to sleep with her mother
it happens this way sometimes
he is left alone and as he tries to sleep
he feels that the big mouth of the house is eating him
swallowed his body listens to the sound of the clock on the wall
ticking and ticking as if time is running out.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A close end
The clock was ticking
It made sound of striking
Both arms moving with long space
Competition to reach out in race
It is closing at last moment
Both arms are struck with no movement
The expiry is over with no sign of revival
It is confirmed there is no more survival
The body is laid for rest
It served till the last with its best
The life span was spread over years
Now no more sound or voice to reach ears
It has no relevance today
Two arms are not crossing the way
They are stuck with as they are
The distance is increased to remain very far
The clock will be thrown and body cremated
The goodness will be remembered and narrated
The nice and noble work to remain in memory
Now there is no concern or worry
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Remember This...
Remember this...
There is only three things
That could get between us.
We can avoid them,
Anytime we choose!
But they will never avoid us...
And the friendship we share!
It dares,
You.
Me.
And our ignorance we take for granted!
And we both can be guilty,
Of enjoying that pleasure!
If we can just keep that in mind!
We'll be friends forever...
Much like a fine wine aging.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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