Growing Old

Related poetry:

1. Mine Enemy is growing old Mine Enemy is growing old I have at last Revenge The Palate of the Hate departs If any would avenge Let him be quick the Viand flits It is a faded Meat Anger as soon as fed is dead ‘Tis starving makes it fat...
2. It Is Not Growing Like A Tree It is not growing like a tree In bulk doth make Man better be; Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere: A lily of a day Is fairer far in May, Although it fall and die that night – It was the plant and […]...
3. My Nose Is Growing Old Yup. A long lazy September look In the mirror Say it’s true. I’m 31 And my nose is growing Old. It starts about 1/2 An inch Below the bridge And strolls geriatrically Down For another inch or so: Stopping. Fortunately, the rest Of the nose is comparatively Young. I wonder if girls Will want me […]...
4. Growing Apart We knew their names Or thought we did, we knew their faces From an album of places we’d played In a fabulous lifetime of childhood shared. Events of our beginnings declared us united By common ascent, whether they liked it or cared, But they were there to be watched and we knew, If we dared […]...
5. Growing Old What is it to grow old? Is it to lose the glory of the form, The lustre of the eye? Is it for beauty to forego her wreath? Yes, but not for this alone. Is it to feel our strength – Not our bloom only, but our strength-decay? Is it to feel each limb Grow […]...
6. On Growing Old Be with me, Beauty, for the fire is dying; My dog and I are old, too old for roving. Man, whose young passion sets the spindrift flying, Is soon too lame to march, too cold for loving. I take the book and gather to the fire, Turning old yellow leaves; minute by minute The clock […]...
7. Night (This night, agitated by the growing storm) This night, agitated by the growing storm, How it has suddenly expanded its dimensions, That ordinarily would have gone unnoticed, Like a cloth folded, and hidden in the folds of time. Where the stars give resistance it does not stop there, Neither does it begin within the forest’s depths, Nor show upon the surface of […]...
8. Whats The Use Of A Title? They dont make it The beautiful die in flame – Sucide pills, rat poison, rope what – Ever… They rip their arms off, Throw themselves out of windows, They pull their eyes out of the sockets, Reject love Reject hate Reject, reject. They do’nt make it The beautiful can’t endure, They are butterflies They are […]...
9. 16-bit Intel 8088 chip with an Apple Macintosh You can’t run Radio Shack programs In its disc drive. Nor can a Commodore 64 Drive read a file You have created on an IBM Personal Computer. Both Kaypro and Osborne computers use The CP/M operating system But can’t read each other’s Handwriting For they format (write On) discs in different […]...
10. Growing Old In some summers there is so much fruit, The peasants decide not to reap any more. Not having reaped you, oh my days, My nights, have I let the slow flames Of your lovely produce fall into ashes? My nights, my days, you have borne so much! All your branches have retained the gesture Of […]...
11. Flower Gardener Gas got me in the first World War, And all my mates at rest are laid. I felt I might survive them for I am a gardener by trade. My life is in the open air, And kindly is the work I do, Since flowers are my joy and care, And comfort too. My flowers […]...
12. Sonnet 32: If thou survive my well-contented day If thou survive my well-contented day When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover, And shalt by fortune once more re-survey These poor rude lines of thy deceasèd lover, Compare them with the bett’ring of the time, And though they be outstripped by every pen, Reserve them for my love, not for their […]...
13. Sonnet XXXII If thou survive my well-contented day, When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover, And shalt by fortune once more re-survey These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover, Compare them with the bettering of the time, And though they be outstripp’d by every pen, Reserve them for my love, not for their […]...
14. May 24, 1980 I have braved, for want of wild beasts, steel cages, Carved my term and nickname on bunks and rafters, Lived by the sea, flashed aces in an oasis, Dined with the-devil-knows-whom, in tails, on truffles. From the height of a glacier I beheld half a world, the earthly width. Twice have drowned, thrice let knives […]...
15. Le Gout du Néant Morne esprit, autrefois amoureux de la lutte, L’Espoir, dont l’éperon attisait ton ardeur, Ne veut plus t’enfourcher! Couche-toi sans pudeur, Vieux cheval dont le pied à chaque obstacle bute. Résigne-toi, mon coeur; dors ton sommeil de brute. Esprit vaincu, fourbu! Pour toi, vieux maraudeur, L’amour n’a plus de gout, non plus que la dispute; Adieu […]...
16. The Little Box The little box gets her first teeth And her little length Little width little emptiness And all the rest she has The little box continues growing The cupboard that she was inside Is now inside her And she grows bigger bigger bigger Now the room is inside her And the house and the city and […]...
17. Cotton Song Come, brother, come. Lets lift it; Come now, hewit! roll away! Shackles fall upon the Judgment Day But lets not wait for it. God’s body’s got a soul, Bodies like to roll the soul, Cant blame God if we dont roll, Come, brother, roll, roll! Cotton bales are the fleecy way, Weary sinner’s bare feet […]...
18. Loving In Truth, And Fain In Verse My Love To Show Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show, That She, dear She, might take some pleasure of my pain, -Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know, Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain – I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe, Studying inventions fine, […]...
19. Sonnet I: Loving In Truth Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show, That she (dear She) might take some pleasure of my pain: Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know, Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain; I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe, Studying inventions fine, her […]...
20. Alone I am alone, in spite of love, In spite of all I take and give- In spite of all your tenderness, Sometimes I am not glad to live. I am alone, as though I stood On the highest peak of the tired gray world, About me only swirling snow, Above me, endless space unfurled; With […]...
21. Astrophel and Stella: I ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: I Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show, That she, dear she, might take some pleasure of my pain, Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know, Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain, I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe; […]...
22. Prelude They say that rhyme and rhythm are Outmoded now. I do not know, for I am far From high of brow. But if the twain you take away, Since basely bred, Proud Poetry, I dare to say, Would scarce be read. With humble heart I thus define My rôle in rhyme: Oh may I never […]...
23. Rose Leaves When they shall close my careless eyes And look their last upon my face, I fear that some will say: “her lies A man of deep disgrace; His thoughts were bare, his words were brittle, He dreamed so much, he did so little. When they shall seal y coffin lid And this worn mask I […]...
24. "It Might Have Been&quot We will be what we could be. Do not say, “It might have been, had not this, or that, or this.” No fate can keep us from the chosen way; He only might who is. We will do what we could do. Do not dream Chance leaves a hero, all uncrowned to grieve. I hold, […]...
25. Courage In the shadow of the grave I will be brave; I’ll smile, I know I will E’er I be still; Because I will not smile So long a while. But I’ll be sad, I fear, And shed a tear, For those I love and leave My loss to grieve: ‘Tis just their grief I’ll grieve, […]...
26. By the Spring, at Sunset Sometimes we remember kisses, Remember the dear heart-leap when they came: Not always, but sometimes we remember The kindness, the dumbness, the good flame Of laughter and farewell. Beside the road Afar from those who said “Good-by” I write, Far from my city task, my lawful load. Sun in my face, wind beside my shoulder, […]...
27. Bonnie Montrose Beautiful town of Montrose, I will now commence my lay, And I will write in praise of thee without dismay, And in spite of all your foes, I will venture to call thee Bonnie Montrose. Your beautiful Chain Bridge is magnificent to be seen, Spanning the river Esk, a beautiful tidal stream, Which abounds with […]...
28. Agnostic The chapel looms against the sky, Above the vine-clad shelves, And as the peasants pass it by They cross themselves. But I alone, I grieve to state, Lack sentiment divine: A citified sophisticate, I make no sign. Their gesture may a habit be, Mechanic in a sense, Yet somehow it awakes in me Strange reverence. […]...
29. Unlyric Love Song It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first: To offer you now at last my least and my worst: Minor, absurd preserves, The shell’s end-curves, A document kept at the back of a drawer, A tin hidden under the floor, Recalcitrant prides and hesitations: To pile them carefully in a desparate […]...
30. Montrose Beautiful town of Montrose, I will now commence my lay, And I will write in praise of thee without dismay, And in spite of all your foes, L will venture to call thee Bonnie Montrose. Your beautiful Chain Bridge is magnificent to be seen, Spanning the river Esk, a beautiful tidal stream, Which abounds with […]...
31. Paudeen Indignant at the fumbling wits, the obscure spite Of our old paudeen in his shop, I stumbled blind Among the stones and thorn-trees, under morning light; Until a curlew cried and in the luminous wind A curlew answered; and suddenly thereupon I thought That on the lonely height where all are in God’s eye, There […]...
32. Miss Lloyd has now went to Miss Green Miss Lloyd has now sent to Miss Green, As, on opening the box, may be seen, Some years of a Black Ploughman’s Gauze, To be made up directly, because Miss Lloyd must in mourning appear For the death of a Relative dear Miss Lloyd must expect to receive This license to mourn and to grieve, […]...
33. I'm going to give up loving you i’m going to give up loving you I’m going to hate you instead Living’s so difficult difficult baby Hating’s like staying in bed You expect too much when i’m loving you I haven’t got it in me to give Love keeps on keeps on at me baby It makes a man frightened to live Hating’s […]...
34. Work When twenty-one I loved to dream, And was to loafing well inclined; Somehow I couldn’t get up steam To welcome work of any kind. While students burned the midnight lamp, With dour ambition as their goad, I longed to be a gayful tramp And greet adventure on the road. But now that sixty years have […]...
35. The Homicide They say she speeded wanton wild When she was warm with wine; And so she killed a little child, (Could have been yours or mine). The Judge’s verdict was not mild, And heavy was the fine. And yet I see her driving still, But maybe with more care. . . Oh I should hate a […]...
36. My Will I’ve made my Will. I don’t believe In luxury and wealth; And to those loving ones who grieve My age and frailing health I give the meed to soothe their ways That they may happy be, And pass serenely all their days In snug security. That duty done, I leave behind The all I have […]...
37. The Red Blaze is the Morning The Red Blaze is the Morning The Violet is Noon The Yellow Day is falling And after that is none But Miles of Sparks at Evening Reveal the Width that burned The Territory Argent that Never yet consumed...
38. Hymn 130 Love and hatred. Phil. 2:2; Eph. 4:30,etc. Now by the bowels of my God, His sharp distress, his sore complaints, By his last groans, his dying blood, I charge my soul to love the saints. Clamor, and wrath, and war, begone, Envy and spite, for ever cease; Let bitter words no more be known Amongst […]...
39. Poor Poet ‘A man should write to please himself,’ He proudly said. Well, see his poems on the shelf, Dusty, unread. When he came to my shop each day, So peaked and cold, I’d sneak one of his books away And say ’twas sold. And then by chance he looked below, And saw a stack Of his […]...
40. At leisure is the Soul At leisure is the Soul That gets a Staggering Blow The Width of Life before it spreads Without a thing to do It begs you give it Work But just the placing Pins Or humblest Patchwork Children do To Help its Vacant Hands...