For Those Who Wish To Die Younger...
to be candid, i do not intend
to grow old with some dead leaves
on that cold pond,
i am not your haiku,
i am the elegy of the middle aged man
who leaves an oral tradition
a poetry to the world
with no trace of any lyric
i already sound like a dirge
dig it.
i do not grow old.
(it is nicer that way,
early to go and
still be wise) .
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
The Rebellious Vine
One day, the vine
That clomb on god’s own house
Cried, “I will not
grow
And, ‘I will
not
grow,’
And, I
will
not grow,’
And,
‘I
will not grow,’
So God leaned out his head,
And said:
‘You need
not
Then the vine
fluttered its leaves, and cried to all the winds:
‘Oh have I not permission from the Lord?
And may I not begin to cease to grow?’
But that wise God had pondered on the vine
Before he made it.
And all the while it laboured not to grow,
It grew; it grew;
And all the time God knew.
poem by Harold Monro
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George Edmunds' Song
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around he here;
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
How like the hopes of childhood's day,
Thick clust'ring on the bough!
How like those hopes in their decay-
How faded are they now!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around me here;
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
Wither'd leaves, wither'd leaves, that fly before the gale:
Withered leaves, withered leaves, ye tell a mournful tale,
Of love once true, and friends once kind,
And happy moments fled:
Dispersed by every breath of wind,
Forgotten, changed, or dead!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around me here!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
poem by Charles Dickens
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I Grow Old
I grow old I should feel the cold
I grow old I should have grey hair
I grow old I should sit and stare
I grow old I should have false teeth
I grow old I should have poor sight
I grow old I should forget to write
I grow old I should have aches and pains
I grow old I should 'stroll down memory lane'
I grow old I should walk with a stick
But as I grow old I KICK ASS!
And that's about it!
poem by Yvette Smith
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0018 Man Raking Leaves (re Jim Morrison lyric)
The sound of wooden rake scratching concrete.
walk nearer - rustle of dry leaves.
This, the beginning of a Japanese haiku
or maybe a Japanese film -
dry sound first, then rake, then leaves, then man -
that evokes autumn
too near the heart
to need a title
the sound stops. silence. man leans on rake.
then match strikes, there's almost yes an echo
from the dry leaves not yet fallen from the trees
in the forest all around.
then the first tickle in the nostrils
of burning leaves which
the two-year old scrunching through the trees
hand in hand with older sister
will remember all his life
like the silence between
two lines of a haiku or
the silence of the moment when the seasons turn.
and who can say
what the golden-orange-yellow-brown trees
slowly stripping in a rustle as of silken nightgown
to the tune of, more a whisper than a breeze -
what the trees feel
as the incense of their, their, burning leaves
steals like a last caress
for each such faithful
lover?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Affirmation
To grow old is to lose everything.
Aging, everybody knows it.
Even when we are young,
we glimpse it sometimes, and nod our heads
when a grandfather dies.
Then we row for years on the midsummer
pond, ignorant and content. But a marriage,
that began without harm, scatters
into debris on the shore,
and a friend from school drops
cold on a rocky strand.
If a new love carries us
past middle age, our wife will die
at her strongest and most beautiful.
New women come and go. All go.
The pretty lover who announces
that she is temporary
is temporary. The bold woman,
middle-aged against our old age,
sinks under an anxiety she cannot withstand.
Another friend of decades estranges himself
in words that pollute thirty years.
Let us stifle under mud at the pond's edge
and affirm that it is fitting
and delicious to lose everything.
poem by Donald Hall
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Leaves (thread)
under the dogwood
leaves cover
a cat’s grave
early spring
one leaf still dangles
from the tree
palmistry
dew drops on a leaf
pick a vein
widow’s diary
pressed rose petal
the last leaf
with the rain drops
leaves flutter to the ground
fall showers
fallen leaves
circusing in the grass
merry-go-wind
October shower
leaves in the gutter
disembark
leaves changing colors
across the landscape
season's chameleons
morning rain
under maple leaves
tap my shoulder
leaves ripple
with melodies
cicadas song
These were published online by Sketchbook. See September/October “leaves” Haiku thread:
poem by Ben Gieske
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Photosynthesis
a light
traveler tired
rests upon
the smooth spot of
leaves,
there is something that
is eaten
but always not consumed
leaves grow more leaves
fruit upon fruit
are the hours
upon a tray of days
light leaves
the world lets darkness
sleep upon
its satisfied
bosom
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Retrieved Poetry
Poetry is dead,
Some would say.
But the inspiration that befell the poet,
But the gods that cursed the poet
Would never allow him grow weary.
It keeps pouring out like morning dew
From sundown to cock crow.
Poetry is dead,
Some would say.
Those would get paid
That wishes it out of this world.
Judgement day, the pay day, even today
,
Memories linger of what the gods inspired.
Only poetry has survived a worldwide flood.
Poetry is dead,
Some have said.
But the inspiration keeps coming,
But the memory keeps living.
Poetry lives on even when the world is dead;
It dies only if it is not poetry
And there is only a good few poetry.
Poetry is dead,
Some have said.
Until we start seeing poetry as poetry
And nothing more, until that day,
Until we start thinking he is inspired,
Until we stop thinking for the poet;
He is possessed he is innocent.
Poetry is dead,
So goes the argument.
Even as we cut from the same tree,
Even as we speak same universal language,
You cannot cut deep if your axe's blunt.
We can never speak from same mouth.
You can only say your own thought.
Poetry is dead,
So goes the argument,
If poetry is dead killed by death,
If poetry is dead swallowed by death,
The corpse should be in our front.
We should know how to bury it.
We should dig not cover it with dust.
Poetry is dead,
If poetry is really dead,
There is cause to weep bitterly,
There is cause to think deeply
For the world has been stripped naked.
For poetry is great, ageless, timeless, bottomless
At the burial we must remain emotionless.
poem by Chime Justice Ndubuisi
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We Tried To Grow
We tried to grow through the winter,
Our roots rotting under stinging frost,
Snow blanketing us in white death.
We tried to grow as the ice melted,
Drowning in cold but warming slush,
Blinded by the sun's reflection.
We tried to grow when the sun blazed,
Burning like a coal inside a fire,
Choking on our own black smoke.
We tried to grow as the leaves fell,
Smothered by sheets of reds and yellows,
Those fragile layers of false safety.
Now we grow old and forgotten,
Relics of seasons past and times lost,
Sideshows in window sills, dying.
poem by William Blake Beckett
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Early Works - The Seasons
Sky clouded and morbid blue
with cracks for the sun to shine through.
Fields barren and dead
with leaves turning from green to red.
Birds on high winging south
as rivers flow from its mouth.
Sun shines a light of cold on the
ground as autumn approaching us surrounds.
The leaves of orange and red mould where they are blown
as upon us winder begins to grow.
After a while comes a white blanket of snow
covering everything that will grow.
The nights get long
and the winter winds blow strong.
Everything is frozen fast
and in this wintry waste, none must trespass.
Overnight comes the warmth of a rearing sun
bringing with it the spring,
life to every living thing.
Trees and flowers bud, bloom,
and around the corner summer begins to loom.
As everything, turns’ smiling around
there is heard in the wind loves sweet sound.
Then with sunsets beautiful, but not rare
we can tell summer is in the air.
Flowers in full bloom spread multicolour around
as small creatures scamper on the ground
under the sun profound.
All the mysteries that summer does involve
will soon be gone as the seasons again revolve.
Date Unknown. (Early 1970’s I think)
poem by David Harris
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I Grow Old
i grow old, i grow old
i shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled
and steal from TS Eliot
thinking no-one knows
i grow old, i grow old
i shall cease to do what i am told
and stay in bed till sunset
when the weather gets too cold
i grow old, i grow old
i shall only wear my crumpled clothes
and look disdainfully at others
when they roll up their nose
i grow old, i grow old
i shall watch events unfold
and take a greater pleasure
in an elder statesman role.
i grow old, i grow old
i shall never play lawn bowls
and never will watch cricket
that's too boring for the soul.
i grow old, i grow old
but i shall never be so bold
as to admonish others
when my views they do not hold.
poem by David Keig
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Big & Strong
(mark heard)
Strong man strangles universe--he drowns the stars
Blinded by the mission of a thousand wars
Hes fit and dominant--no wonder why
He loves the battle cry
Strong man is survivor--he lives to pound
Little wooden crosses in the bloody ground
Hes fit and dominant--his will is truth
His hand is absolute
And the world keeps on turning
And the sun keeps on burning
And the children keep learning
How to grow up big and strong
How to grow up big and strong
Strong man takes no prisoner--favors no plea
He leaves no gold in teeth of enemy
Hes fit and dominant--rises above
He has no word that means love
And the world keeps on turning
And the sun keeps on burning
And the children keep learning
How to grow up big and strong
How to grow up big and strong
And the world keeps on turning
And the sun keeps on burning
And the children keep learning
How to grow up big and strong
How to grow up big and strong
How to grow up big and strong
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fireflies Of Love
Fireflies of Love.
Summer by the river of temptation,
vinyl records and turntable gramophone
songs about love and longings.
Naive lyric, but for our young hearts it
had a deep meaning.
Passion like fireflies filled the air, the aroma
of grass and the scent of green leaves,
enchantment and adoration.
Nothing is like first love, alas it never lasts
and like fireflies, disappear at first light.
Liver spotted hands turn the pages of memories,
shiny leaves of youth clear as the river and
undimmed by middle-aged cynicism.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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November
The world is tired, the year is old,
The fading leaves are glad to die,
The wind goes shivering with cold
Where the brown reeds are dry.
Our love is dying like the grass,
And we who kissed grow coldly kind,
Half glad to see our old love pass
Like leaves along the wind.
poem by Sara Teasdale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Wish I Was By That Dim Lake
I wish I was by that dim Lake,
Where sinful souls their farewell take
Of this vain world, and half-way lie
In death's cold shadow, ere they die.
There, there, far from thee,
Deceitful world, my home should be;
Where, come what might of gloom and pain,
False hope should n'er deceive again.
The lifeless sky, the mournful sound
Of unseen waters falling round;
The dry leaves, quivering o'er my head,
Like man, unquiet even when dead!
These, ay, these shall wean
My soul from life's deluding scene,
And turn each thought, o'ercharged with gloom
Like willows, downward towards the tomb.
As they, who to their couch at night
Would win repose, first quench the light,
So must the hopes, that keep this breast
Awake, be quench'd, ere it can rest.
Cold, cold, this heart must grow,
Unmmoved by either joy or woe,
Like freezing founts, where all that's thrown
Within their current turns to stone.
poem by Thomas Moore
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We Were Talking Under The Talisay Tree
we were talking under the talisay tree
about our future
one summer
when the leaves are brown
and falling to the ground
where the red ants
are busy taking their food
under a heap of
dry leaves
we will be there
to reach our destinies
but we may not be there
together
there is always a season for me
and for you
the wisdom lies in the waiting
the goodness in the waiting
and the beauty that we will see
lies in the content of our eyes
the tranquility of the pond
where the moss begins
to grow again
in stones.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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274
we were talking under the talisay tree
about our future
one summer
when the leaves are brown
and falling to the ground
where the red ants
are busy taking their food
under a heap of
dry leaves
we will be there
to reach our destinies
but we may not be there
together
there is always a season for me
and for you
the wisdom lies in the waiting
the goodness in the waiting
and the beauty that we will see
lies in the content of our eyes
the tranquility of the pond
where the moss begins
to grow again
in stones.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Kindness
Things are destined to be lost
To be broken
The leaves fall and rot
At the foot of the tree
The roots soon shrink
And become part
Of the indifference of the
Rocks and the soil
Things move out
And up
Like vapor and then
Change their forms to air
But there are those that weep
And keep
Whatever was lost and destroyed
The leaves they take with their hands
And the roots
They stroke with the toes of their feet
Caress and
Kindness their virtues
That humanity has soon discarded
They grow the seeds in their hearts
They keep the fire of love
Burning
And the earth and the sun and stars
All smile at them
They too grow and scatter and travel
To all the places of this earth
Their forms too many
The gods know
They too must grow and get the world
Of the grass of sorrow
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Grow Old With Me
You said you will
You said I do
Now thats the best thing
For me and you
Well stick together our whole lives through
Grow old with me
Starting out just the two of us
Pretty soon theyll be a few of us
Well love and cherish and give our trust
Grow old with me
Pretty face got it all worked out
What we did today leaves me in no doubt
That dreams come true
And now Im whole
I fell in love - heart and soul
Youve given more than words can say
You took the lead and you showed the way
A new beginning for us today
Grow old with me
Grow old with me
Pretty face got it all worked out
What we did today leaves me in no doubt
That dreams come true
And now Im whole
I fell in love - heart and soul
You said you will
You said I do
Now thats the best thing
For me and you
Well stick together our whole lives through
Any fool can see - youre gonna
Grow old with
Old with me
Grow old with me
Grow old with me
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Silence Shall Be
i find this in the forest of trees
long trees, shady, such that what you can see
are only shadows of leaves
and what you hear is only the sound of the wind
choked between tight walls,
this is my silence,
moist, and soft, between a growth of wild
ferns
rotten leaves heaps and heaps of
rotten leaves
layer after layer of rotten leaves
thick and pushed still to the roots
smashed to the ground
some seeds from the oaks
or maybe from the flowers of the orchids
or some sweet fruits and red berries fall
in there
and they begin to grow
rich as humus is this soil down
the darkness of this forest,
this is my silence
deep inside me
moist, rotten, but soon
lots shall grow
seeds turning into sprouts
to trees again
perhaps taller than ever
some fruits so sweet and colored and shiny
some flowers scented and so lovely,
this my silence
shall be, i am keeping it for years
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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