Related quotes: Old age knocked on my...

The Notion

Old age knocked on my door and enjoined
‘Over, your stint in the desert’
Obeyed, though my reveries remain unfulfilled
Oddments of my odds and sods are wrapped up to carry along
Being the remnant of my bygone age
In the reduced and straggled circumstance

The nook in this room may have a lot to tell the next
Of my grieves and pains, though I portrayed to be jovial
As it might have overheard my weeps and whimpers
When pang of loneliness crushed me in the shadows of the nights

Throng of memories spring to mind while leaving my den
Of yore, for the land of bliss and delight, I left all my nearest and dearest
It was on the later part of a dull and damp day
The sun was hidden, as he was too fighting back tears so I was.

The burning days were unbearable
The summer days in the promising land
Toiled away beneath the fiery cruel sun, but
Thoughts of my nearest and dearest hasten dried out my sweats

Vacations, quick as a wink and hurry, were
Waving hands of friends and relatives prompted,
‘Be ready to set your pace in the heat and blizzards, and
The rousing (but a weeping) send-off for long, again and as often

Not hurry, I am, now
My hired wheels are also rolling at a glacial pace
As if the chauffeur knows that my journeys are over
He too seems dull, probably, no trip after mine…

My nest, not remote, away only few minutes
My ecstasy is curling up away in to infinity
Seeing my clan of people, at the thought of,
Who would be waiting for me eagerly as usual.

The cab is in front of my mossy house, but
My notions are all for naught
I am devoid of my friends and relatives
Who used to be eagerly waited for my arrivals.!

March 20,2009 - Hawiyah (Empty Quorter of Sadui Arabia)

poem by Nooruddeen Mathilakathveetil
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I Need A Dog

the television watches me
like im it's mindless prisoner
my remote has become moist
from holding it far too long
my computer beckons me
just as my television did
minutes turn into hours
and what started as casual browsing
has turned into obsessive numbness
my life is perpetual laziness
fueled by compulsive stalking
my prey: fictitious characters
on TV and bygone friends of old
back and forth i pace, wondering
how i got to where i am
where are the kisses from the girlfriend
ive never had, where is the silken
black hair my fingers are meant to comb through
back and forth i pace, begging
all that is good to grant my heart solidarity
anxiety washes over me from the endless pacing
so there, sitting on my threadbare couch,
i search through my phone to find someone,
to find a reason to spark conversation
i dont have many contacts,
mostly work friends and relatives.
i have nothing to say to them,
and if i did, i wouldnt say anything
id just text them
im so lonely i cant even muster up
the enthusiasm to actually speak
anxiety washes over me from the realization
of having no friends, no life, and no purpose
all i have is loneliness
i dont cry, i never do
my best friend is myself,
and despise him

i need a dog

poem by Kellen Davis
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The Burial of Sir John Mackenzie

(1901)

They played him home to the House of Stones
   All the way, all the way,
To his grave in the sound of the winter sea:
   The sky was dour, the sky was gray.
They played him home with the chieftain's dirge,
Till the wail was wed to the rolling surge,
They played him home with a sorrowful will
To his grave at the foot of the Holy Hill
   And the pipes went mourning all the way.

Strong hands that had struck for right
   All the day, all the day,
Folded now in the dark of earth,
   Veiled dawn of the upper way!
Strong hands that struck with his
From days that were to the day that is
Carry him now from the house of woe
To ride the way the Chief must go:
   And his peers went mourning all the way.

Son and brother at his right hand
   All the way, all the way!
And O for them and O for her
   Who stayed within, the dowie day!
Son and brother and near of kin
Go out with the chief who never comes in!
And of all who loved him far and near
'Twas the nearest most who held him dear --
   And his kin went mourning all the way!

The clan went on with the pipes before
   All the way, all the way;
A wider clan than ever he knew
   Followed him home that dowie day.
And who were they of the wider clan?
The landless man and the no man's man,
The man that lacked and the man unlearned,
The man that lived but as he earned --
   And the clan went mourning all the way.

The heart of New Zealand went beside
   All the way, all the way,
To the resting-place of her Highland Chief;
   Much she thought she could not say;
He found her a land of many domains,
Maiden forest and fallow plains --
He left her a land of many homes,
The pearl of the world where the sea wind roams,
   And New Zealand went mourning all the way.

poem by Jessie Mackay
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As Long As I Can

I wear a smile some days
to hide what I feel inside,
especially when I remember
of the days when friends were few.
Remembering all the loneliness
I used to bottle up inside
and how at the end of the days
when I would slip away to my room
and sit down and cry.
Though those days are gone now,
at times their memories
still come to trouble me
and I often wonder
if they will ever let me be.
Today is so different
with my friends around the world.
They make me feel
I am someone very special,
but I keep asking myself why.
The answer is lost to me
like the desert barren of rain.
I know not why it has happened,
nor how long will it last.
Only that I will enjoy it
for as long as I can.

poem by David Harris
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My Cavalier And My Friends

Long nights I was right there
Waited for you to come
The tears flowed up of my heart
The days became so long
The time has stopped there
Since the day you've gone
Years still are humbling by
Your words still like a knife are hurting my heart
Yet all still there in my heart
I gather them in my hands
I count them every day
I kiss them one by one
Once I forget that you've gone
My heart begins to fly
Flies again up there with the birds begins to sing love songs
Yea this is the where I always wanted to be
I become once again the most beautiful goddess of love
How amazing is the view of the life when I watch it from the sky
But I'm not there any more at once I return back to ground
Ah you were my honest cavalier and your words always expected to be real than real
Never thought that they could be unreal
Since you've gone my love
Across the nights I'm always alone
Untill me and the night became friends
He saw my aches and felt my heart pain
The night and his friends are my dearest friends
Every time I cry they come out of my dark clouds
We all begin to play games
The night and the moon and the stars with the sky
We all are good friends
Once I begin to cry they begin mocking to make me smile
Ah my love now I have lot of friends to take care of your pain.

poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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The house that died

An Empty house
An era bygone
Fragrant shadows
Echoes mourn

Smiles and tears
Joyous... morbid
Swift emotions
Of hues myriad

They say we bury
Our emotions alive
And forget in a hurry
But they live and thrive

This house... it lives
Through Echoes and smells
Stored memories behind its walls
Mystic house... story unfurls

A memory for every one who lived
Every single sigh they heaved
A voice whispers to tell the tale
Every memory has a smell

A ball room...under keys and lock
Wooden floor
Smells of rose and holy hock
Symphony rings
True to the core

Dining room
With its sounds
Clatter of spoons
“Cheers”...doing rounds

Nursery room
Giggling smiles
Whispering winds
On broken tiles

A chimney stands
Gathering soot
Smell of fire
Burning wood

And the kitchen
The lover’s nook
For the butler and the cook
Echoes of ladle
Hitting the pan
Boiling pot
And smoking can

A bed room smells of
Shadow and light
Echoes of love talks
Of the passionate lusty nights

The house that died
To live once more
Through smell’s portal and echoes door

Is calling out to you!

poem by Saurabh Som
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Old Thoughts (Imagine: I'm aging)

- The winter wind blows through the cracks
Around an old window pane,
It mournfully howls a brooding tune
Flashing images of age into my brain.

Time walks on
Always at a steady pace,
Continuously spitting dirt
In humanities face.
The elderly forced to wear age
Worn and weary,
Towards the end
No longer in such a hurry.
For all who long enough live
Age shall wear old upon old,
Yet amazingly for so many
The soul refuses to grow cold.

- (more thoughts come in, with the wind)
I'm alone
And barely breathing
Ecclesiastes is the book
I prefer these days to be reading.
Quietly pondering and listening
I know time is winding down,
For increasingly, in the wind I hear drawing near
A far off inescapable sound.

Far too soon spring buds turn
Into fall's dried and dead leaves.
So short are the sweet summer birdsongs
Hence, south they have flown
Leaving behind empty, old and brittle trees.

So many May days
Have come and gone,
It all starts to sound
Like the same old melancholy song.
The falls not much changed
From the spring,
'Cept the lack of desire
To jump and sing.
Winter's chill draws closer than ever
And summer is far gone,
Cheap thrills no longer seem so clever
As days grow short, and nights long.

Yes 'old' is the way to say
We are running beyond
Our youthful days,
But, old shall take us step-by-step
To the end, of ourselves, and
To the end of all that is here wrong,
Slowly returning us from exile, back
To where we started, and
Have always belonged.

- Through this broken pane tonite
The wild wind yet blows,
Mysteriously whispering epic secrets
About age, life, and meaning.......
The outcome of which, we must trust
God alone fully knows.

poem by Smoky Hoss
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Come Next Winter, Friends

COME NEXT WINTER, FRIENDS

I WILL WAIT WITH MY SON IN MY HANDS
FORGET NOT COMING TO MY LAND MY FRIENDS

WHEN THE WOODS BLOOM WITH FLOWERS OF SNOW
WHEN THE BOREAS BRING YOU HELL WITH BLOW
WHEN YOUR HEARTS CRAVE FOR WARMTH AND GLOW