Page 97 of 122 ~Pine Cone Diary~

29 Sep

[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.


We shed a small tear, becoming a prism, a glitter

     in the sliver of a waning moon. We let it fall with joy

on another evenings shadow,

cast upon a weathered sundial, praying for the ‘morrow;

     when we are old.

(It all subsides from youth to age.

From steel to rust, from rock to gravel.

From coal to diamond and back to dust.)


Posted by on September 29, 2018 in AARP, Life, Love, Pine Cone Diaries, Poetry, Zen


Tags: , , , , ,

19 responses to “Page 97 of 122 ~Pine Cone Diary~

  1. 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).

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Gillena Cox

    October 2, 2018 at 4:24 pm

    Thanks for linking to Monday WRites this week

    much love…

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Gillena Cox

    October 1, 2018 at 2:49 pm

    Monday WRites 174 is live. I invite you to link up

    much love


  4. 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

    Liked by 1 person

  5. ZQ

    October 1, 2018 at 12:04 pm



  6. 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.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. 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…

    Liked by 1 person

  8. mhmp77

    September 30, 2018 at 11:24 pm


    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!


    Liked by 1 person

  9. 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.

    Liked by 1 person


    September 30, 2018 at 9:36 pm

    I enjoyed this. But I do think within one is a little of the other.

    Liked by 1 person

  11. 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. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  12. 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…

    Liked by 1 person

  13. 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.

    Liked by 1 person

  14. 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.


  15. 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.

    Liked by 1 person

  16. 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.

    Liked by 1 person

  17. 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!

    Liked by 1 person

  18. 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.

    Liked by 1 person

  19. theitinerary1

    September 30, 2018 at 12:16 am

    Great post 😁



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