I Am Too Old /To Make Up
I AM TOO OLD / TO MAKE UP
I am too old
To make up
For years of self- delusion.
How can I begin again
When my life is almost over?
I have fought for a dream
But I did not fight in the right way.
I gave my life to writing
But I did not write carefully enough.
I have so much to do
And not enough time and ability to do it.
So I was another one of the millions
Who tried and was not good enough.
Now in the years left
What can I do
So that I and my wife
Do not end up
In complete poverty and humiliation?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Related quotes
Who Does Not Really Want To Write The Best Poem In The World?
yes, a five-star poem.
the one fit for first prize
awards, the one that will
make you famous
worldwide,
who does not like to
go on tv? read that famous
poem personally.
me? sorry i don't.
i am tired writing the best poem
of my life
been writing for years
i can imagine
trying to fit in
with the most famous ones
dead and alive
but i know i can never write it
because i can't
because i don't
because i do not have any reason
to write it.
i love to write.
AND that is foremost.
that is final. nothing ambitious.
nothing to change your world
or this world or that world
nothing to influence another
indonesian or turk
or swedish or
anybody or anything
what advantage do i get
when i say i just love to write
when i say i do not want to write the best poem in the world?
nothing, except the joy of having
to make the deep breath
in my life.
air that fills my lungs
and make me dream and make me sleep
longer than you do.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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On The Poverty Line
A mother and grandmother near the end of her life
To an unworthy fellow she was a good wife
Without provocation her he often did beat
But at least she feels happy she is not on the street
As a homeless person struggling for to make ends meet
Without a roof over her head and with little to eat
And though she cannot afford to go out for to wine and to dine
She feels happy to live on the poverty line.
The hard life has left her with lines on her face
But poverty she is happy to embrace
One of the people by society forgot
But she is not one to complain of her lot.
For millions and millions life is so unfair
And so many more like her in the big World out there
For millions a huge struggle just to get by
For success they no longer bother to try.
Her ex husband left her for a younger woman a decade ago
She is better without him that much she does know
She took his abuse and his every blow
But any bitterness towards him she never does show.
She lives as a good person and spiritually pure
But she does not know how it feels to live as financially secure
She never eats out never tasted good wine
The one who exists on the poverty line.
poem by Francis Duggan
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0005 Letter to a Younger Poet
Thanks for your letter. Though
you’ve caught me at a rather awkward time –
I’m going into surgery tomorrow – a rather
risky op; so I’ll try to put all the answers that I’ve got
into this one letter;
I hope you'll understand...
and that helps me to make my first point to you:
write as if you, too, may not live
beyond tomorrow – write as if
it’s the last thing that you’ll ever write –
give it everything you’ve got,
hold nothing back;
or better still – write as if
the world will end for everyone tomorrow:
write so that in their last hours, too, this
will make them feel, will make them know
we’ve faced life fully, faced it so complete
that death is relatively unimportant now…
write as if it were only yesterday
that, in an air crash, all your family –
parents, wife or husband, partner, children, and best friend,
had lost their lives; write as if,
were you not to write,
your heart would break forever, or you would go mad...
write as if you’re writing somewhere
where there’s no such thing around, as ink;
you’ll have to use your own blood in the pen,
so use it carefully; so red, so living,
look at it… so beautiful, so precious,
and so solemn – use it carefully, don’t spill a drop…
write as if you’re borrowing every word
from the very centre of the universe, where suns and gods are made;
and need thus to account for every word
with your whole life, no less; know that every word
must be given back, cleaner, stronger, brighter
with your own power, than when you borrowed it;
write as if every poet that ever lived
is leaning over your shoulder, so that you
can feel their breath upon your neck as they say
‘Tell them all that we would tell,
but cannot now; tell them all of this’…
this, now, is how you must deeply be and speak;
write as if you are the only being on earth
who can tell them this; as if tomorrow, if tomorrow comes,
you shall visit them every one, at home,
and look them in the eye; write as if
you love them more than they will ever know;
write as if you were offering to live their lives with them;
write as if you were a force of nature in yourself:
as if whatever earthquake, hurricane or flood might do,
whatever law or love may greatly do,
whatever gods or men can speak, in fullest force,
this you may do, because the sound of poetry is such;
yes, write ‘as if’ – but know you really write ‘because’…
write as if – no, write because –
you know that only poetry can tell
all, that must be told, and must be known;
and as all hearts melt in the heat of your own love,
be in no doubt – and see that all are in no doubt too –
that life was never, never more serious,
never more glorious, than it is right now;
write all this.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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My Mother
Every one gives praise about their mothers
But none can give as much praise as me.
She brought me from a country
Where most lived in poverty.
She worked hard and saved her money
So that I may have a better life
She is an excellent mother
And to my father a good wife.
She has been there every step of my life
She turned bad things into right.
She has given me the strength to pursue my dream
For in me, there is something that she has seen.
She taught me how to love and respect
All that GOD has given
and to make life worth living.
Through her pregnancy and through my birth
She has given all her worth.
Then through my childhood years
To my teenage years, she was with me
To shed her tears.
when I was feeling down and out
And I wanted to scream and shout
She was there to wipe my tears
And put to rest, all my fears.
Even now that I am grown
all her love is still shown.
No one can love you more than a mother
And in my life there is no other.
So to my mother this is for you
You are my life, my love, my dream come true
And I am so thankful to you.
poem by Louis Rams
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Leave That To
I've never known what it's like real poverty
And I've always been lucky life is good to me
And since I've never known illness or physical pain
I am not one with the right to complain
Leave that to those who are doing it tough
The homeless and destitute who have to live rough
The forgotten people of Poverty Street
Who search in rubbish bins for thrown out food to eat
Leave that to the millions of Stateless refugees
Hungry and subject to every known disease
Life for them a constant survival fight
If they complain they have earned the right
I've lived for sixty one years in time a good span
And I cannot complain I am a lucky man.
poem by Francis Duggan
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On My Worth As A Writer
On my worth as a writer I do cast great doubt
Though one could never run out of things to write about
And poetasters are many and poets they are rare
Yet so much to write on of the big World out there
One can say I've written a whole heap of stuff
Yet out of millions of writers few are good enough
To make a success out of the wordsmith trade
So many there are and so few make the grade
Not many writers the literary critics impress
And so few out of writing become a success
For every literary success of which we do read
So many are destined to never succeed
And only a tiny minority do make writing pay
But then such is life as some are known to say.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I'm Tired Of It All
I am tired of it all
I am tired of today
I am tired of the summer heat-
I am tired of all the years of trying to be something
And still being nothing and no one
I am tired of myself and my ambition
I am tired of reading the great poems of others
I am tired of Poetry
I am tired of being old
I am tired of no longer having the means to help those I care for-
I am tired of having written for so many years
And having so little to show for it-
I am tired of being an old man getting older -
I am tired of being afraid of what is going to happen to me
And those close to me
I am tired of having so many sick friends-
I am tired of having more and more people I have known who are dead
I am tired of a world in which violence and stupidity play such a great part
I am tired of all the problems that should have been solved years ago
And yet persist-
I am tired of cruelty
I am tired of rudeness and petty selfishness
I am tired of seeing the evil get away with it
I am tired truly tired
Tired of being tired also
Tired of myself and my complaints-
And my failure all these years
To make things right-
And yet and yet with all the tiredness
I know there is so much else even in myself-
I still want to live and dream and hope and help those I love
I still want to write still a few lines of poetry
that will be read by others
And help them
Dream to begin again
I still want to give to those I love
The little I still have to give
I still want to live
For life itself is life itself is still good
Despite the tiredness.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Kiwi Dave
For forty five years I've been working and I'm just an unfettered slave
And I have gray hairs to show for it I am quoting Kiwi Dave
Five years to go to retirement I was sixty last birthday
And ever since I've started working it's been uphill all the way.
My ex wife said that I was a drinker that I was too fond of the booze
That was her excuse for leaving she said I was born to lose
But I take it in moderation after work three or four beers
And I've been a slave for her and for my children for close to if not twenty years.
Fifteen years ago she left me and she went to live with younger bloke
She got more than half my assets for years to her haven't spoke
She turned my son and daughter against me and my six grandchildren I don't see
And I will spend my usual Christmas on my own watching T.V.
Kiwi Dave is a good person though just a little soured by life
And things for him would have been better had he had a faithful wife
'A woman she can make or break you' with that who could disagree
Dave could see the truth in those words for who would know better than he? .
For forty five years he's been working the hard worker Kiwi
Dave
And for his ex wife and his children for years he has been a slave
He looks older far than sixty the hard life has made him gray
Five more years left till retirement it's been uphill all the way.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Moment In A Million Years
Music : klaus meine
Lyrics: klaus meine
The lights are slowly fading down
Theres no one else, just you and me
Nothing ever changed
I see your faces in the crowd
It seems I know each one of you
For all my life
I wish this night could last forever
But its time to go
I saw you laugh, I saw you cry
All for one and one for all
Nothing ever changed
The way you sang just blew my mind
It gave me chills from head to toe
What a glorious night
To me it could have lasted forever
But its time to go
A moment in a million years
Is all Ive got for you
A moment in a million years
To make some dreams come true
A moment that I wont forget
Until the day I die
A moment in a million years
Called life
The bus is waiting right outside
To hit the road and once again
I leave you all behind
I chase another dream tonight
And by the time youll be home
Ill be far away
Nothing seems to last forever
Its time to go
A moment in a million years
Is all Ive got for you
A moment in a million years
To make some dreams come true
A moment that I wont forget
Until the day I die
A moment in a million years
Called life
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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27 Years! ! ! ! !
27 years of my life-
I lived like a wife,
waiting for my husband kiss;
Which i always missed.
27 years of my life -
Waited all the nights,
To share my happiness and sadness;
And i felt it was madness.
27 years of my life-
I spent with unknown husband,
Who has time to work;
And I felt like a jerk.
27 years of my life-
I spent with boredom,
And being a loyal wife;
I lost my freedom.
After 27 years of my life-
I still feel something missing,
I still keep looking;
And still waiting.
And the next 27 years will pass by:
Without my husband near by.
poem by Anju Addanki
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Still Around
Do you remember what you said to me the day I met you
Like yesterday I still can hear your voice, you promised to be
Still in my life no matter what you had to do to be there
Well, it's been a while and here we are lookin' back on times that we shared
I still imagine us being young and so in love
Never apart, you were my heart
Seems like it's always just been us
Chorus:
I remember we were in the park
Holding hands and you said to me
I'm the only thing you need
And I would make your life complete
If I said I'd be your girl
You would stay with me forever
Boy, you never let me down
Through it all you're still around
Still around (yeah)
I still believe in all the things you said to me in those days
You gave me love and kept your word with every promise you made
I sing your favorite song inside my head when you're not with me
Until you come back home and take me in your arms and hold me
I can imagine us being old and still in love
Never apart, you are my heart
Makes me smile, we're still in love
I remember we were in the park
Holding hands and you said to me
I'm the only thing you need
And I would make your life complete
If I said I'd be your girl
You would stay with me forever
Boy, you never let me down
Through it all you're still around
Looking back through all the years
(Man speaking):
Heh
You remember the first time I went to your house
And your father looked at me like I had three heads
(And I will never forget the day)
Heh
We were so in love
(Looking back through all the years)
You were so beautiful and so young
(And I will never forget the day you came into my life and what you said to me)
I can't believe you're still mine
That's crazy
I love you
I remember we were in the park (we were in the park)
Holding hands and you said to me (holding hands)
I'm the only thing you need
And I would make your life complete (and I would your life complete)
If I said I'd be your girl
You would stay with me forever (I'm still your girl)
Boy, you never let me down
Through it all you're still around (I'll never let you down, my baby)
I remember we were in the park
Holding hands and you said to me
I'm the only thing you need
And I would make your life complete
If I said I'd be your girl (said I'd be your girl and)
You would stay with me forever
Boy, you never let me down
Through it all you're still around
Still around (yeah)
song performed by by Jennifer Lopez
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Workaholic
He retired from his job on his sixty fifth birthday
But he did not enjoy the work free life
And he died just nine months into his retirement
To be mourned by his family and his wife.
It has been said he was a workaholic
And that he was one who worked as hard as two
And he felt bored without a job to go to
And he pined away as many like him do.
His problem was he did not have a hobby
And a working life the life he loved and knew
A good man for his wife and family and his Country
But good men just like bad men must die too.
For forty seven years he worked for the same employers
And to the end to his bosses was true
His parting gift from them a wrist watch and box of chocolates
And a well done and a shake hands and thank you.
He must have been one who truly liked his bosses
To have worked for them for forty seven years
His last day on the job it was his saddest
And as he left he fought to choke the tears.
His problem was that he did not have a hobby
And he only lived for each working day
And when he left the workforce in his sixties
He fell into ill health and pined away.
poem by Francis Duggan
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For Israel: A Small Poem Of Gratitude On Its Sixty- Fourth Independence Day
FOR ISRAEL: A SMALL POEM OF GRATITUDE ON ITS SIXTY- FOURTH INDEPENDENCE DAY
How can one person even think to begin to say
What so many would say?
The gratitude for the years of being here-
The gratitude for the blessings that have been given-
The beauty of so much done here-
The courage of so many and the sacrifice-
The children and the grandchildren
The life in Jerusalem-
The rain this year and the freshness of the land now-
Our ability to defend ourselves
The realization of a dream of so many generations in returning-
The friends we have-
The building of the country
The dream that somehow we will make Peace
The benefit we have in our inventions given to others
How can one person even begin to say all the thanks
For so much there is to be grateful for?
Thank God we are still here
May be worthy of Your Blessing in the future.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Am Not Sorry No She Said
I am not sorry no she said
That my ex son in law is dead
He gave to my daughter a hard life
And she to him was a good wife.
It may seem a callous thing of me to say
That I'm not sorry he's out of the way
For without him my daughter will survive
And in fact I'd like to think she'll thrive.
And though I feel her years with him were wasted years
My daughter sheds her grief in tears
To him she was a good wife and a good friend
And she stayed with him right to the end.
Whatever in him did she see
I find it way far beyond me
For to understand the workings of humanity
For they were different as can be.
She said as for myself I've been lucky in life
Lucky to be a good man's wife
But our daughter good of heart and kind
In love and marriage happiness failed to find.
Her feelings she is not afraid to own
When she said the rudest man that I've ever known
And I am not sorry no she said
That my ex son in law is dead.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Missing Finger
You left us with ten fingers and,
Came back with nine fingers;
What really went wrong?
Fifteen years away from home,
We are yet to know what really went wrong;
Fifteen years away to make some money,
What really went wrong with your missing finger?
You made enough money and thought that,
You were richer than the President;
Today, you've returned home poorer than before!
There is time for everything,
A time to gain and a time to lose;
What really went wrong?
From a flight to your plight,
Who will help you now?
Fifteen years awayto make some money,
But today you can't even eat well at home;
From a flight to your plight,
Today you can't even sleep well at home;
Fifteen years away to make some money,
The very colours of the rainbow with a view;
You left us with ten fingers and,
Came back home with nine fingers;
What really went wrong?
From a flight to your plight,
Fifteen years away to make some money;
From the land of red, gold and green! !
From a flight to a plight,
It's all part of a lesson;
You are now at home at last.
The President was at the stadium but,
Where were you?
It is better to be humble than to boast.
Flight, sight, might, bright, tight, light;
You're poorer than fifteen years ago!
Bite, kite, height, fight, eight, plight;
You're poorer than fifteen years ago!
Quiet, rite, white, night, site, write;
You're poorer than fifteen years ago!
Today, the President is better off than you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Little Did I Know
Little did I know forty-two years ago
when I put pen to paper
after getting off a fairground ride
at sunset that day.
That what I was about to write
would be a crowning achievement
in my writing life.
That what I wrote would be read and used
in all the four corners of the world.
It would be used to compliment
photos, painting, and memorials
to those who had passed away.
A piece of writing
which would evoke so much in many.
For everyone who reads it
get their own impressions from within it.
Little did I know
more than any other of my work,
it would make my name.
Although I have written poems
for one reason or another
that have become favourites of mine,
Just Beyond The Sunset is a dream
and beyond that sunset
my dreams have come true
in a lot more ways than one.
For little did I know
what I was writing then.
21 April 2008
poem by David Harris
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You hurt me
you think that one sorry can make things better
you think that guilt can make things better
you think that years of not talking to me can be fixed by one sorry
i'm your daughter your sopostoo love me
your soposto care about me
and love me
but i don't love you any more
you wasted my time with empty promises
like i want to be there for you
i want to have a real life with you
i can and never will forgive you for ignoring me for four years
you are the worst fauther ever
you tryed to kill me when i was it my mothers stomach
you beat me
and your stupid wife locked me in my room for a day without anything
you said you loved me
i dont believe you
you wrecked my life now stay out for good
poem by Kalista Mccart
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My Next Thirty Years
(track 12 - time 3:37)
(phil vassar)
I think Ill take a moment, celebrate my age
The ending of an era and the turning of a page
Now its time to focus in on where I go from here
Lord have mercy on my next thirty years
Hey my next thirty years Im gonna have some fun
Try to forget about all the crazy things Ive done
Maybe now Ive conquered all my adolescent fears
And Ill do it better in my next thirty years
My next thirty years Im gonna settle all the scores
Cry a little less, laugh a little more
Find a world of happiness without the hate and fear
Figure out just what Im doing here
In my next thirty years
Oh my next thirty years, Im gonna watch my weight
Eat a few more salads and not stay up so late
Drink a little lemonade and not so many beers
Maybe Ill remember my next thirty years
My next thirty years will be the best years of my life
Raise a little family and hang out with my wife
Spend precious moments with the ones that I hold dear
Make up for lost time here, in my next thirty years
In my next thirty years
song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Mother Had A Dream
My mother had a dream once
To help the young and old
Twenty years of hardship
Takes a lot out of your soul
And the vultures of society
Want to pick away
At her dream's
To close the door's of opportunity
That as helped so many
To make their own dreams
Become so real
Perhaps it's time for me
To sow the seeds she gave
To make my own life dreams
Become her legacy
poem by Kaila George
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Golden Years
he finally reached his golden years
wanted to leave his family,
thoughts and love to share.
so he sat with pen in hand
wrote about his lifes plan.
it started off with just his dream
never expecting the unforseen.
as his plans began to unwind
he found himself lost in time.
he joined the army at an early age
this was to become the setting stage
he survived the street gangs and a war
and never talking about what he saw.
he managed retail businesses all his life
met the woman who would become his wife.
he had always loved children
so he thought it was time
his wife agreed and it turned out fine.
a beautiful little girl came into their life
and everything seemed twice as nice.
now he had two women who captured his heart
and knew right then, that this was the start.
the start to his golden years
with his wife he could share.
all the dreams that were meant to be
was now becoming a reality.
but the years was going by fast
he knew his dreams would not last.
now with this thought in mind
he decided it was time
to put his life in perspective
for the golden years to become effective.
so he changed his train of thoughts
a late retirement he would abort.
he retired before his time
so he could enjoy life the way
that it was meant to be
living happy and carefree.
now that he finished writing
down his thoughts and plans
he let them know
'YOUR PERCEPTION BECOMES YOUR REALITY'
and this is what mine was to me.
the golden years are now mine
and i'm lost in its time.
poem by Louis Rams
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