Old

One more of the poems from a notebook of about 25 years ago. Re-reading them, I am slightly surprised to find I rather like a lot of them, still. Although my style has altered considerably, my sentiments are still much the same. Which is as you would expect, I suppose.

But there are plenty that I certainly won’t be inflicting upon you!

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As hard as ice and twice as cold,

The devil that is growing old;

Who taunts our bodies’ feeble frames,

And takes our minds – forgetting names.

 

As cold as ice and twice as hard,

The back that’s bent, the hand that’s scarred.

The face that’s worn and lined with sorrow,

The fear there may be no tomorrow.

 

The fear tomorrow may come yet,

And bring us more embarrassment,

But how we cling with greedy hands,

To these poor fragile, shallow, lands!

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25 thoughts on “Old

    1. Thanks, Edgar. I sometimes do the rhyming thing, sometimes I don’t. The next poem (in a few days – advance warning!) definitely doesn’t!
      Making friends With The Crocodile is set in a Northern Indian village, and deals with the perceived role of women in a male dominated society. Just to make things really difficult for myself, I wrote it in the first person as an Indian woman. It has been well received by Indian women, though, so I hope I did something right!

      Like

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