Crossing Fifty
Crossing fifty now,
holding kgs of hundred;
Grey grown head and
glistening forehead.
Climbed peak of hill
now time to slope down;
With several branches
chunky tree is grown.
Putting a step further
at stair of growing old;
Celebrating golden jubilee
fifty years behold.
Amassed the ruggedness,
experience, knowledge;
To surrender to the world
carrying responsibilities.
poem by S.D. Tiwari
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Middle age
Life is also a mathematics
number of breaths are counted.
Maths sometimes works on assumption
let's presume the life be hundred.
Mid point of hundred is fifty
that must be the middle age.
Till twenty five we fill up the energy
for perfect propelling in space.
Next twenty five climb the hill
attain the adventurous peak.
After fifty sloping down starts
hill's other side in life's journey.
In childhood god is with you
in old age you search the God.
Remaining period been struggling
of your pitch to become the lord.
In evening of life wait for sunset
visiting doctors or consuming pills.
Own energy is now exhausted
depend on wind like the windmill.
The beauty of the morning and
radiance of noon are till fifty.
after fifty sun starts going down
towards the evening tranquillity.
Between adolescence and old
say between twenty and seventy,
second half of it is heavier so
the balancing point
is
fifty.
(C) S. D. Tiwari
poem by S.D. Tiwari
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Poem Celebrating 50 Years
My dear, ‘twas fifty years ago when we first met
on a trip to Stratford that I'll never forget.
When as a sweet girl of fourteen you caught my eye
and love first began its great work in this old guy.
Today we dined together and were reminiscing
and we praised God for each years' wonderful blessing.
Then we sat by the canal in the bright moonlight
holding hands like two lovers sitting in God's sight.
Time has passed by and how quickly the years have flown
and God has blessed us greatly as our love has grown.
I am so glad that I have married you my dear
and shared the experience of each passing year.
Lonely Tree
A lonely tree
On a lonely hill
Wishes to be
A forest still
Thou all alone
It dreams of more
Of seedlings grown
From its forest floor
Their branches growing
Ever climbing high
So feverish flowing
To reach blue sky
Covering this land
Beyond its view
A forest grand
All fresh and new
A sight to behold
It would surely be
A dream so bold
For such a lonely tree.
“closing thought”
A family is like a forest that continues to grow
From a lone simple seedling it outwardly flows
poem by Gordon Jerome
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
That Fifty Year Old Woman
That fifty year old woman
she is someones mother
that fifty year old woman
she is someones lover
them fifty years of her life
unseen by a cover.
Covered by the leaves
from the autumn trees is the grass
surrounded by blue tape
and nosey people who pretend to pass
a group of actors walk by
they have come from a history class
to make history new
with conversation with questions to ask.
A fifty year old woman
in an autumn so cold
a fifty year old woman
seen dark winter unfold
them fifty years of life
it is all we are told.
The actors, they didn't get any information
they did not get pictures
nothing known about the situation
nothing at all to discuss
fifty years of age is all thats said
on the morning paper on the fifty bus
thats all thats said
a fifty year old woman, shes found dead.
That fifty year old woman
shes not someones mother
that fifty year old woman
how she had no lover
them fifty years of life
unseen by a cover.
That fifty year old woman
she was quoted in the paper today
that fifty year old woman will be gone tomorrow
the writers they will show no sorrow
because its the way things work
as people pass
she no longer lies on grass
shes covered in dirt.
poem by Daniel McCann
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Grown Men Dont Cry
(steve seskin, tom douglas)
I pulled into the shopping center
And saw a little boy wrapped around the legs of his mother
Like ice cream melting they embraced
Years of bad decisions runnin down her face
All mornin Id been thinkin my lifes so hard
And they wore everything they own, livin in a car
I wanted to tell him it would be ok
But I got just got in my suburban and I drove away
But I dont know why they say grown men dont cry
I dont know why they say grown men dont cry
Keep having this dream about my old man
Im 10 years old, and hes holding my hand
Were talkin on the front porch watchin the sun go down
But it was just a dream he was a slave to his job and he couldnt be around
So many things I wanna say to him
But I just placed a rose on his grave, and I talk to the wind
But I dont know why they say grown men dont cry
I dont know why they say grown men dont cry, dont cry
Im sittin here with my kids and my wife
And everything that I hold dear in my life
We say grace and thank the lord
Got so much to be thankful for
Then its up the stairs and off to bed and my little girl says
I havent had my story yet.
And everything weighin on my mind disappears just like that
When she lifts her head off her pillow and says,
I love you dad
I dont know why they say grown men dont cry
I dont know why they say grown men dont cry
And I dont know why they say grown men dont cry
I dont know why they say grown men dont cry, dont cry
song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
There are one-hundred fifty-four games in a season and you can find one-hundred fifty-four reasons why your team should have won every one of them.
4. Grow Well
The knowledge tree will need to grow
While we still have the need to know
Its roots secure to help it growing
Food it seeks our need for knowing
Thick stout trunk a brain or store
With many wonders to explore
Branches go at every angle
Many problems to untangle
A tree as this of many years
Survives by feeding from our tears
Sometimes joy at knowledge found
They fall like raindrops on the ground
Remember in the world out there
Try to learn and be aware
And if you’re able, go to college
To fertilize this tree of knowledge
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fifty Years Of Marriage
With dye and hair colouring they cover their gray
Their fifty years of marriage they celebrate today
Through fifty years of marriage they have argued their way
In their love hate relationship one well might say.
Their better days one can say for them are long gone
And they age without grace though time is ticking on
Their children are grand-parents and the years on them show
Since they too are ageing and their fastest pace slow.
Fifty happy years together by some we are told
But others who know them well and with their words more bold
Will tell you they never did see eye to eye
But why they stay together one must wonder why.
They have stayed together for so many years
One can hardly say of them the lovely old dears
Since they both are quite quarrelsome and grumpy as well
Perhaps without quarrels life for them would be hell.
Fifty years together and the same bed they share
Yet even in public places at each other they swear
Such marriages as their's suppose never were rare
They are not the World's only dysfunctional pair.
Today their descendants will celebrate the marriage of their Pop and Gran
And applaud this wonderful woman and man
But the truth of their marriage they will never tell
How they seem to enjoy giving each other hell.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
This Tree -Lined Street/ I Walk Down Everyday
THE TREE –LINED STREET / I WALK DOWN EVERYDAY
The tree- lined street
I walk down everyday
Its beauty-
How long has it been this way?
Twenty? Fifty years?
How many years will it remain?
Everything goes away
A hundred years? Two – thousand years?
All is waiting
To go away forever-
And what will become of all this world?
These beauties we have seen?
Another day. Another day.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
sloping down the hill
loosing my climb adventure
sickness woe ahead
grown old, got golden knowledge
love to live, give back to world
tanka by S.D. Tiwari
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
~~It was May, The Summer of my 12th Year~~
My fathers' field
acre upon acre of hay
barren in May
from winters blight
perfect for me to play
~~
Flat land
as far as I could see
except for one huge pine tree
a young boy, idealistic still
I thought this tree was grown for me
~~
I climbed the tree most every day
climbing right to the very top
branches formed a perfect seat
magically sitting there
time would stop
~~
Wind would blow, branches creaked
the tree and I swaying with the breeze
protected in my tree
ignorant of life's confusion...
its little ambiguities
~~
Now I wonder, as I sit
in these my twilight days
if only I could travel back
to that my 12th year in May
to hear the wind, smell the pine
and feel the boughs as they sway
~~
I would love to whisper one more time
to my very special tree
thank you so for keeping me safe
and all the memories
but most of all for the excitement
and the passion for feeling free
poem by Peter Shea
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
We do not believe that the Marxist program, which embodies the continuity of the experience of the actual class struggle and real revolutions of the last one hundred and fifty years, is a definitely closed book.
quote by Ernest Mandel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet XXXVII
I will release my soul of argument.
He that would love must follow with shut eyes.
My reason of the years was discontent,
My treasure for all hope a vain surmise.
I will have done with wisdom's sophistries,
Her insolence of wit. What man shall say
He comfort takes in the short hour that dies,
Because he knew it mortal yesterday?
The tree of knowledge bears a bitter fruit.
This is that other tree, whose branches hold
Fair store of faith, peace, pity absolute,
And deeds of virtue for a world grown cold.
If by its fruits the tree of life be known,
Here is a truth undreamed of Solomon.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Quatrain #4 - When the time comes and.........
When the time comes and if we are faced with the unknown,
it's on the soil of experience the tree of knowledge is grown.
Life and death are the two sides of the one coin of existence
the difference between them is the extent of our ignorance.
poem by George Krokos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Stairs....
the stairs show us
a door, and we focus
to the moment when
we arrive at the very
doorstep
anticipating about
a day of an opening
and see finally what is next
what is there
we step upon each
plank
ascend every next
stair
each stair
and the next stair
all the days of our
lives
spending time
with little rest
and sometimes with
nothing at all
sooner we feel
so deceived
having spent so much
time already
ascending
habitually
but not really getting near
that attractive door
and when we notice that
it is too late
our faces have given birth
to all the wrinkles
our heads have grown
all the white hairs
and silences by all means
have sewn our lips
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fifty Eight Years
fifty eight years,
step after step...
pathways of stone,
of water, of wind...
no footprints behind.
small fires on dark nights,
waves of stillness opening...
the eyes of the breathing surround.
touch! touch!
echoing against the roar.
words sealed on paper
for future fires!
when scars become gifts
left on strangers' doorsteps...
for there are no strangers,
soul unto soul.
step after step,
rain falling softly.
smoke from the chimney,
hangs like a prayer.
face to face,
lips touching lips,
a small bag of dreams
left under a child's pillow.
fifty eight years.
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Family Is Like A Tree
A tree is like a family it starts
out very small but it soon begins
to grow and the family too also
grows.
The tree starts out with small branches.
A family ita a child.
as the years go by they have all
grown together.
Soon the tree has been generated with
new branches and too the family expands
not with branches, but generations.
.Their both so much a like in so many
ways., if nurtured and taken care of
they both will grow straight. and tall.
And generate many new branch
and many more generations too
come as the tree grows old
some branches will die and fall off.
When the generations of a family
get old they too will die off.
But both will leave something of
themselves behind.
.
To live on for many generations of
life and many generations of branches..
GAYLE GOFF
2008
poem by Gayle Anne Goff
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The New Savitr.....
/* On the occasion of 50th marriage anniversary of an old couple, I wrote these thoughts*/
Sun, Moon and the Planets near and far
Galaxies, Constellations and the twinkling stars
Gas Clouds and the vast infinite empty space
Keep moving away day by day, science says
From the moment of its birth in the seed of fire
For millions and millions of years
The Universe grew by not holding together
Telling us with time things diverge from each other
But from the moment of birth before the sacred fire
Bond of yours grew by holding together
Your heart and soul has grown in each other
Your original self now hard to decipher
Fifty years duration or one and half billion seconds
Flame of your love that defied the cosmic trends
Is Savitr, the seed of fire extolled in RgVeda Gayatri
I salute it at your feet and thank the almighty!
-TBT
poem by TheBigThinkg Human
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
From here it sounds great to say we'll all get together soon, but all I know is this: you can call me fifty days or fifty years from now and I'll be glad to see you.
quote by Richard Hooker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Stafford's Cabin
Once there was a cabin here, and once there was a man;
And something happened here before my memory began.
Time has made the two of them the fuel of one flame
And all we have of them is now a legend and a name.
All I have to say is what an old man said to me,
And that would seem to be as much as there will ever be.
“Fifty years ago it was we found it where it sat.”—
And forty years ago it was old Archibald said that.
“An apple tree that’s yet alive saw something, I suppose,
Of what it was that happened there, and what no mortal knows.
Some one on the mountain heard far off a master shriek,
And then there was a light that showed the way for men to seek.
“We found it in the morning with an iron bar behind,
And there were chains around it; but no search could ever find,
Either in the ashes that were left, or anywhere,
A sign to tell of who or what had been with Stafford there.
“Stafford was a likely man with ideas of his own—
Though I could never like the kind that likes to live alone;
And when you met, you found his eyes were always on your shoes,
As if they did the talking when he asked you for the news.
“That’s all, my son. Were I to talk for half a hundred years
I’d never clear away from there the cloud that never clears.
We buried what was left of it,—the bar, too, and the chains;
And only for the apple tree there’s nothing that remains.”
Forty years ago it was I heard the old man say,
“That’s all, my son.”—And here again I find the place to-day,
Deserted and told only by the tree that knows the most,
And overgrown with golden-rod as if there were no ghost.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!