[1st. Draft Dec,2017 rev: Sept,2018 ]
A weathered Sundial
When we are young,
We can tolerate physical pain,
emotional blizzards and blinding rain.
We seek recognition, fortune, and elusive fame.
We chase glittering stars on summer nights
and keep sentry for sunrise to celebrate dawn with life.
We even can cry without forcing a fight.
We can talk, discuss, and compromise.
We recognize beauty in a surprise.
We are able to light a candle when the fire dies.
When we are young,
we can laugh at ourselves. We believe in pennies
flipped fluttering to the bottom of wishing wells.
We become Peter Pan and Wendy
ignoring pouting Tinkerbelle.
We watch directions flow through heart than through mind.
We travel distances immeasurably fast;
roadways, highways, and paths. We float
above chipped concrete, soft tar, and beaches
with ankle-deep sand.
Even paths that are crook and twisted
in shallow water or on solid land.
We are each other’s map.
We frolic in spaces where time never exists;
along with places, where sadness, is just a visit.
When we are young,
eventually those days, I suppose, age eclipses.
**********
When we are old,
we sit with aches and pain. Confused and misunderstanding, we complain.
Our clothes begin to slip or do not fit.
Along with our acceptance of expected fortune
and absence of fame.
We wear sweaters and warm cotton hats on cool summer nights
watching the sunset fade into rising moonlight.
(Having bitten Eve’s apple, once forbidden
We become stubborn —guilt ridden with indigestion
and slow in healing. We sleep uneasily on thin frayed
but forgiving linen. We forget ourselves in mixed memories,
forgetting our birthday in evaporating wishing wells).
The sound of muted Tocks
Tick off the clock, like muffled thunder
under the hoofs of approaching mercenaries;
Angels from heaven and perhaps one or two
from hell’s monastery.
Magaly Guerrero
October 5, 2018 at 6:26 pm
Life and living is change… and a lot of the same… seen and felt differently, as we grow (or not).
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Gillena Cox
October 2, 2018 at 4:24 pm
Thanks for linking to Monday WRites this week
much love…
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Gillena Cox
October 1, 2018 at 2:49 pm
Monday WRites 174 is live. I invite you to link up
much love
gillena
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Jim Tee
October 1, 2018 at 1:26 pm
this was wonderful to read. i like both sides: when we were young and when we are old. you did great on this one ZQ
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ZQ
October 1, 2018 at 12:04 pm
hAhA
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annell4
October 1, 2018 at 10:28 am
You have captured the differences well. But there is more, so another poem will come. Thanks for coming by to read and to comment.
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dsnake1
October 1, 2018 at 8:08 am
wonderful, galloping piece of work, a real delight to read. brings back fond memories of younger years, and the harsh reality of today.
when we were young, we wished to be a bit older, and a lot of other things. but when we are much older, we wish.. what was that we wished for, i seem to have forgotten…
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mhmp77
September 30, 2018 at 11:24 pm
kaykuala
A fair balance of reckoning affecting the 2 main stages of life for which all would have to go through.
One would have to adjust as one goes along or risks frustrating moments. Very true ZQ!
Hank
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thotpurge
September 30, 2018 at 11:15 pm
guilt ridden with indigestion
and slow in healing. We sleep uneasily on thin frayed
but forgiving linen. We forget ourselves in mixed memories,
forgetting our birthday in evaporating wishing wells)
—- this feels heavy… the process of aging.. inevitable, harsh and perhaps all that wisdom with no place to go. Yes, heavy.
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Colleen@ LOOSELEAFNOTES
September 30, 2018 at 9:36 pm
I enjoyed this. But I do think within one is a little of the other.
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anmol(alias HA)
September 30, 2018 at 5:31 pm
And such is the story of life — the juxtaposition is effective in its telling. An interesting read. 🙂
-HA
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Gillena Cox
September 30, 2018 at 4:24 pm
We do have to face the reality of aging. I think gratitude is our victor’s staff
Thanks for dropping by and linking to sumie Sunday today ZQ
much love…
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kanzensakura
September 30, 2018 at 4:09 pm
The movement of youth vs. the no movement of older age. I must admit to being a bit nonplussed by this viewpoint. My hand is 9 years younger than I but he moves like an old man. In my mind I am still 16 if not in my body which in my body I am about 40. No I will not go gently into that good night. I will go skipping, running, and boxing my wsy.
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ZQ
September 30, 2018 at 4:08 pm
Yes!But for some, it’s yard time on a sunny day… counting their “spoons” (days).
As for me personally? Life continues giving me wonderful surprises,
never really thinking about time, day or night. I think it may to do with my failing memory : )
PS: I share your point of view.
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susanstoo
September 30, 2018 at 3:14 pm
Wow! You capture that sun dial brilliantly from youth (“keep sentry for sunrise to celebrate dawn with life”) to age (“We shed a small tear, becoming a prism, a glitter
in the sliver of a waning moon. “)
I enjoyed the reference to Never Never Land immensely. I think I once believed I would depart life before youth ended, but here I am with the aches, pains, and complaints–and looking forward to more years.
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Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
September 30, 2018 at 12:08 pm
These two work so well… the constant movement of youth versus being rooted when we are old… just maybe the real difficulty is contentment… as if movement of the time is all that matters.
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Sherry Blue Sky
September 30, 2018 at 11:43 am
I cant tell you how much I love and resonate with this poem, especially the angels from heaven and one or two from hell’s monastery. Cool. A wonderful write, my friend!
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dabrnone
September 30, 2018 at 9:48 am
Such a negative commentary on aging! Yes we slow down, we are colder. But we can still choose to live! Enjoy the present, the little things that make us happy. Don’t dwell on the past-it is the past. Live in the present! The future is just that-we don’t know what it hold. Enjoy today and make the best of it. Walk that beach, walk that path in the forest. Yes, you have raised my hackles.
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theitinerary1
September 30, 2018 at 12:16 am
Great post 😁
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