Pinch
i look at my face wrinkles are being drawn like a plow making furroughs
on the ricefield,
wrinkles, i am getting wrinkles,
i look at my arms and i touch it, they are loose now, like some clothes
hanging loosely in my body, emaciated by lack of nutrition,
i look at my hear, i open it like a pettry cash box, i see some scars
and some loose coins for change, i like to break it open and leave
it that way, i am saddened by this
emptiness, this pain,
i stand now in the mirror with a picture on hand of my youth
i look many times finding how
time drenched me with old age, my hands beginning to tremble my
mind forgetting more and more of those memories of my youth,
i refresh myself, i get this clip and pinch myself, i remember
i am still alive, and that is luck enough, a friend of mine just died today,
cardian arrest,
and i am trying to do some little thinking, what if i will be next?
i am finite, i pinch myself some more, some more, some more.....
till i turn blue, till i bleed, who cares?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Reflection
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Why do I look in you, at all,
For all I see is the same old me,
And not how I so want to be.
Mirror, mirror on the stairs,
Why do you show me many years,
A face with wrinkles everywhere,
Would anybody like my share.
Mirror, mirror near my bed,
In you I look with certain dread,
For creams and potions just don't work,
Behind them still the wrinkles lurk.
Mirror, mirror in the hall,
Seeing you makes me recall,
That I am now of senior age,
Well stuck into the wrinkles stage.
Mirror, mirror by the door,
How I hate you more and more,
I'm having to look the other way,
When my reflection's on display.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Wrinkles and Grey Hair (Children)
Mommy's getting wrinkles.
Daddy has grey hair.
It wasn't very long ago
when those things weren't there.
Wish I could smooth the wrinkles out
and darken Daddy's hair
to stop the changes going on.
It makes me feel so scared.
Grampa, does it mean they'll die?
They have wrinkles and grey hair!
I never used to worry
before those things were there.
Grampa said to look at him.
There were lots of wrinkles there,
and on his head, a snowstorm
was the color of his hair.
'Wrinkles only come to point
where smiles were, here and there.
It's your mommy's turn to get some
for the happy times you've shared.'
His white, and Daddy's grey hair
well, it was there to show
who had lived the longest time
so everyone could know!
Grampa said it's part of life.
We love, we learn, we live.
We earn grey hair and wrinkles,
they're prizes only God can give.
Fairy Revels
Pinch him, pinch him, black and blue,
Saucy mortals must not view
What the queen of stars is doing,
Nor pry into our fairy wooing.
Pinch him blue-
And pinch him black-
Let him not lack
Sharp nails to pinch him blue and red,
Till sleep has rocked his addlehead.
For the trespass he hath done,
Spots o'er all his flesh shall run.
Kiss Endymion, kiss his eyes,
Then to our midnight heidegye
Are our brains wrinkled?
Wrinkles are the measurement,
to show the life's management,
some are very near and deep,
and the rest long and steep.
Wrinkles are the asset,
that get through the experience,
not all those experienced,
never have such twinkles.
The wrinkles which can not be seen,
hidden inside the hard shell,
More the wrinkles formation,
More the knowledge dwell.
Let us see who has more fold.
Einstein or a research assistant,
people with more folds may not know it,
people with lesser folds strive to get it.
Do not let anyone,
to iron out the wrinkles,
with their disillusioned vision.
Let us acquire more in our brains.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Wrinkles
For Naomi Lazard
Sometimes I can't wait until I look like Nadezhda Mandelstam.
-- Naomi Lazard
My friends are tired.
The ones who are married are tired
of being married.
The ones who are single are tired
of being single.
They look at their wrinkles.
The ones who are single attribute their wrinkles
to being single.
The ones who are married attribute their wrinkles
to being married.
They have very few wrinkles.
Even taken together,
they have very few wrinkles.
But I cannot persuade them
to look at their wrinkles
collectively.
& I cannot persuade them that being married
or being single
has nothing to do with wrinkles.
Each one sees a deep & bitter groove,
a San Andreas fault across her forehead.
"It is only a matter of time
before the earthquake."
They trade the names of plastic surgeons
like recipes.
My friends are tired.
The ones who have children are tired
of having children.
The ones who are childless are tired
of being childless.
They love their wrinkles.
If only their were deeper
they could hide.
Sometimes I think
(but do not dare to tell them)
that when the face is left alone to dig its grave,
the soul is grateful
& rolls in.
poem by Erica Jong
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You Ask Me If I Change
you ask me if i change
i tell you, yes i always change
don't you notice it?
some hairs on my head
are whiter now, and some
have fallen without any
sound, my wrinkles move
and they beget wrinkles
my eyes fail, my hands
tremble, my feet dwindle,
my memory of names and
places are wanting of
particulars
i change. Everything in me
changes beside you and
how can you not notice it?
i know, we are too near
and we are always together
in this familiarity where
changes are everyday and
yes, how could we not notice
all these, my dear?
you are laughing, a lock
of your hair is falling too.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I'm As Young As I Was
I stand
In front of the mirror daily
I ask myself
What has changed in me?
Between yesterday and today
I do not get an answer
I feel I am as young as I was
This goes on for years
I see white hairs
Wrinkles on the face
One day
Have I become old?
I ask myself
I do not get an answer
I feel I am as young as I was
Life goes on and on
One day
I find it difficult to stand
My image in the mirror
Looks blurred
Hands tremble
When combing the hair
Have I become old?
I ask myself
I do not get an answer
I feel I am as young as I was
One day I am in bed
I am told,
I am sick and old
No, I say
I may be old in age
But not at heart
In the mind
I am as young as I was
I got well
I still stand
In front of the mirror daily
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Open Arms
If love is what you want
Baby here I am
If tenderness is what you need
Ive got that to give
If you need some affection
Baby these are open arms
Open arms open arms open arms open arms
You come hem youve had a hard day
Every door you tried to open
Was closing in your face
Im right here Ill be right here
Ill embrace you
Ill be open with my heart
Ill let you in
Ill be open with my thoughts
Ill be your best friend
If you need some attention
Baby these are open arms
Open arms open arms open arms open arms
Every corner you turn
Trouble come your way
But when you get home
Ill try to be there
And Ill embrace you
These are
These are
These are
Open arms
If time is what you need
Baby Ill stop the clocks
If youre looking for something
Maybe Ive got what you want
If theres one thing to remember
Dont forget that these are open arms
Open arms open arms open arms open arms
These are
These are
These are
Open arms
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As Old As
It’s early January
Early morning
My feet are cold on the bathroom tile
And that’s not my face
Staring at me from the mirror
An older face than the one I went to bed with
Puffy skin wrinkles I don’t remember that
One gray hair does not belong to me
I am not this old man
The song of youth still
Plays in my skull my heart my
Bones ache
Eyes blur
After long day working
Hard to keep them open and
I sometimes nod off
To the late news or Letterman just like
My dad did when I was a boy
And I would look at him and think
He’s old and I
Will never be
Am not as old
As that face staring
From the mirror on this
Cold January Morning
poem by Tom Foster
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A turning gold
I fear of being called old
but in fact turning Gold
astute behavior and approach bold
head of the family and very nice hold
Calmness like sea and brightness like sun
family members would love and make fun
my try to win the race with stick walk run
children may point with small barrel gun
'Grandpa, your time is over'
we will give you cover
your inning should not last
as you are aging very fast
Don't leave us behind
where from we will find?
you are our dad's dad and very kind
we touch your feet as you are soft and mild
It turns me old when somethig I hear
“One time handsome may not remain dear”
He is loosing charm and wrinkles developed
Great show on stage is likedly to be floaped
I feel delighted when hear nice words
There is no fun to think of age and look backward
Any one may go for high jump when fully young
Alas! it is beautiful inning but not going to last long
Who can stop the blowing wind?
Who can clip the bird’s wing?
You may go high in the air
The game is considered to be very fair
It is the test of time that you spread the fragrance
The ability and young age is thing of presence
It may stay as long as you think it is in your reach
The birds may come down to find and search
Where do we find peace and shelter?
Where is our final destginy and cover?
Who will accompany us till the end?
The world has to be made as lovely abode and friend
The sun may shine hard and rain may cause the blow
The vigor and strength may develop cracks and go slow
The speed may slower and ri ver may stop the flow
The eys may loose the sight and face its glow
The wrinkles are sign of wisdom
It truly reflects but speaks seldom
Who knows better what can be spoken off?
World may not realize when to cry and laugh
The river water have calmed down and flow silently
The words too are spoken very nicely and gently
You represent serious figure and act as saintly
The advice too comes easily and instantly
One must, in times to come, must grow old
So many may be following you and come in fold
It is not wrinkles but lines on face
That may speak of marathon race
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Your Eyes
(written by natalie cole)
Do you realize that I could see the windows of the world through your eyes?
Pretty eyes
(da, da, da, da, da, da, da)
(your eyes)
Your eyes that (da, da, da, da, da, da)
Mesmorize and hypnotize
(la, la, da, la, da, da, da)
(your eyes)
(da, da, da, da)
They can tell no lies
Hm, little adelines, (da, da, da, da, da, da)
Youre so fine
(your eyes)
(da, da, da, da, la, la)
Even your wrinkles shine
(even your wrinkles shine)
Pretty, pretty eyes. uh
(your eyes)
(da, da, da, da, da, da)
Pretty, pretty eyes, uh
Da, da
Your so fine; I just hope theres time
cause your eyes are so kind
I feel like theyre a friend of mine
Although theres pain behind
And its so far away
But they just seem to say
Its okay, cause the rain must fall every now and then
But oh, ho, ho
Everythings gonna be alright again
(there goes that smile again)
There goes that smile again
The one that shines through Ill defend
Never have I seen eyes like yours
That smile much better than any I know
(even your wrinkles shine)
Even your wrinkles shine
(your eyes that smile are fine)
Wont you stay awhile
Wont you look through me
So I can be what you see
Youre so fine
(your eyes)
(la, da, da, da, da, da...)
Your eyes are so kind
(la, da, da)
(your eyes)
I never would have known
It never would have shown
That you were blind
song performed by by Natalie Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Age wrinkles the body. Quitting wrinkles the soul.
quote by Douglas MacArthur
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wrinkles
Wrinkles in time
trite phrase yet true
where life creates chaos
it leaves wrinkles in you
Furrows in fields
we pass along the way
while navigating roads
we must travel each day
All leave their mark
both inside and out
as we strive to comprehend
what life really is about
Holes in the fabric of time and space
equate to the wearing that in living takes place
With fabric and lives the choices seem the same
We can deal with challenges or merely place the blame
So whether wrinkles we bear
Or holes we must mend
We have tools at hand
It’s our choice in the end
poem by Mary Havran
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A Brand New Day....
THAT feeling that you are nothing
we must admit, comes in a while
like a drought in April,
you feel like a Sahara though you have never been there
but it is more real
that dryness of the river of the soul
that runs without a water
winding its way into the labyrinths of your heart
you feel like hanging yourself upon a tree and
saying: this is it
i am swallowed by the mouth of emptiness,
on the other hand, in time you come to your senses
imagining the gardens, and lakes and mountains
the youthful days with friends
as though you wake up from a deep stupor with
the sleep inducing drug
you pinch yourself, ' i am still alive
and there is still a use for my hands and
the whole body'
you open your eyes to see the morning light.
it is a brand new day. it is. it really is.
why must emptiness carry you as though you are a powerless piece
of floating paper in air?
damn it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Despised And Rejected
My sun has set, I dwell
In darkness as a dead man out of sight;
And none remains, not one, that I should tell
To him mine evil plight
This bitter night.
I will make fast my door
That hollow friends may trouble me no more.
'Friend, open to Me.'—Who is this that calls?
Nay, I am deaf as are my walls:
Cease crying, for I will not hear
Thy cry of hope or fear.
Others were dear,
Others forsook me: what art thou indeed
That I should heed
Thy lamentable need?
Hungry should feed,
Or stranger lodge thee here?
'Friend, My Feet bleed.
Open thy door to Me and comfort Me.'
I will not open, trouble me no more.
Go on thy way footsore,
I will not rise and open unto thee.
'Then is it nothing to thee? Open, see
Who stands to plead with thee.
Open, lest I should pass thee by, and thou
One day entreat My Face
And howl for grace,
And I be deaf as thou art now.
Open to Me.'
Then I cried out upon him: Cease,
Leave me in peace:
Fear not that I should crave
Aught thou mayst have.
Leave me in peace, yea trouble me no more,
Lest I arise and chase thee from my door.
What, shall I not be let
Alone, that thou dost vex me yet?
But all night long that voice spake urgently:
'Open to Me.'
Still harping in mine ears:
'Rise, let Me in.'
Pleading with tears:
'Open to Me that I may come to thee.'
While the dew dropped, while the dark hours were cold:
'My Feet bleed, see My Face,
See My Hands bleed that bring thee grace,
My Heart doth bleed for thee,
Open to Me.'
So till the break of day:
Then died away
That voice, in silence as of sorrow;
Then footsteps echoing like a sigh
Passed me by,
Lingering footsteps slow to pass.
On the morrow
I saw upon the grass
Each footprint marked in blood, and on my door
The mark of blood for evermore.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Burning Candle
Pituitary reeks of wrinkles
whose advent adverse
as a bad breeze
blows at your bare brilliance.
Adrenaline billows hands
around your virile yellow,
bright in the teeth of bad breeze
as a grain animate in humus.
Till wrinkles wrap hands
in shrouds of flabby folds,
bare your fragile flame
to bad breezes brutal breath
And out your yellow flame will go
in time with breeze's harsh triumph
for burning candles melt their wax
as scribbling ballpoints sap their ink.
poem by Oluchukwu Ifechukwu
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The Anomalous...
when an anomaly exposes itself
like a face
when wrinkles before did not
destroy it
soon you will tremble about
what you cannot believe
a man rises from the sea
with a tail of a dragon and his arms
soon turn into the wings of
a giant bat and if you are not
careful enough
because you have been too complacent
or too trustful in such a stupidity of
the foulest of all fools
you can be one of those gobbled up
eaten raw
like the way he had wantonly eaten
his last best friend
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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She Who Wears The White Hairs
she who wears the white hairs
teaches me what to do with my life
i embrace her and take the clue
from the scent of her wisdom
earned by her for years and years
the weight burdening much
on her bare shoulders
her wrinkles speak of the struggles
of the past warring on the moles of her
cheeks the furrows where tears rush
and fall and then seep on the floor
i kiss her tonight for it is her birthday
and i whisper to her my gratitude
i smell the sweetness of her soul
and it sinks deeper into the recesses
of my heart: here is the lady who made me
i once remember the Chinese eyes in me
my brown skin so tight to my bones
my complacency removed from my youth
my mind soaring like a blithe spirit in the air
she was there all the days of my life
teaching, guiding and patiently noting
what i lack, what i need and what i must be
soon i shall have her white hairs too
her wrinkles her sad smile her own death
soon like her i will stand proud too
she did her best and we were brought to the test
she does not mind her passing we are ready for the timing
we shall switch roles, she dies we save more souls
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sometimes When We Touch
(barry mann, dan hill)
You ask me if I love you
And I choke on my reply
Id rather hurt you honestly
Than mislead you with a lie
And who am I to judge you
In what you say or do
Im only just beginning
To see the real you
And sometimes when we touch
The honestys too much
And I have to close my eyes and hide
I want to hold you till I die
Till we both break down and cry
I want to hold you till the fear in me subsides
Romance and all its strategy
Leaves me battling with my pride
But through all the insecurity
Some tenderness survives
Im just another writer
Still trapped within my truth
A hesitant prize fighter
Still trapped within my youth
And sometimes when we touch
The honestys too much
And I have to close my eyes and hide
I want to hold you till I die
Till we both break down and cry
I want to hold you till the fear in me subsides
At times Id like to break you
And drive you to your knees
At times Id like to break through
And hold you endlessly
At times I understand you
And I know how hard you try
I watched while love commands you
And Ive watched love pass you by
At times I think were drifters
Still searching for a friend
A brother or a sister
But then the passion flares again
And sometimes when we touch
The honestys too much
And I have to close my eyes and hide
I want to hold ya till I die
Till we both break down and cry
I want to hold you till the fear in me subsides
Subsides
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thanks Happenstance
I sat counting up all the blackeyes
i'd ever got
All the broken bones bloody noses
from all the battles i'd ever fought
Then I looked down at the top of my hands
With all their scars and scrapes
subway system of veins
Worn out skin from washing someone else's
greasy dish pans
And I laughed 'till I cried
cried 'till I laughed
Either way its all the same
for I was neither happy nor sad
Just thankful for all I'd ever had
And even though
I've not done much with it
I'm just thankful for the chance
So thank you God, thanks Allah
Thank you Buddah
Thanks Dad and Mom
Thanks luck, thank you chance
Thanks timing
Thank you kindly happenstance
Thank you all for a shot
I thank you all
I thank you so much for the chance
I sat counting up all the broken hearts
I'd ever got
All the broken dreams unrealized things
I'd ever sought
Then with my fingertips
I gently touched my face
I could feel the lines of worry, wrinkles of time
that no potion could ever hope to erase
And I laughed 'till I cried
cried 'till I laughed
Either way its all the same
for I was neither happy nor sad
Just thankful for all I'd ever had
And even though
I've not done much with it
I'm just thankful for the chance
So thank you God, thanks Allah
Thank you Buddah
Thanks Dad and Mom
Thanks luck, thank you chance
Thanks timing
Thank you kindly happenstance
Thank you all for a shot
I thank you all
I thank you so much for the chance
I sat counting up all the bad news
i'd ever got
All the losing hands flus and colds
i'd ever caught
Then I reached down
put my hand upon my heart
And though battered tattered broken
sometimes torn apart
I was just thankful through it all
Never once did it ever just give up
and stop
And I laughed 'till I cried
cried 'till I laughed
Either way its all the same
for I was neither happy nor sad
Just thankful for all I'd ever had
And even though
I've not done much with it
I'm just so thankful for the chance
So thank you God, thanks Allah
Thank you Buddah
Thanks Dad and Mom
Thanks luck thank you chance
Thanks timing
Thank you kindly happenstance
Thank you all for a shot
I thank you all
I thank you so much for the chance
poem by Cin Sweet Fields
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