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Winter is on the tips of her fingers. Winter is silver on her breath as she exhales,
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i promised to never tell my true age i was looking and noticed its right on my allpoetry page
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Read a lot of humorous poetry.
Laugh as much as you possibly can.
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Dancing legs and snapping thumbs Sway to the beat of the bongo drums
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Sit there like an animal, not in the derogatory, but in the best way, in silence, in good faith, loyal as the moon, always there, chasing our eyes despite our turning backs. Kids, like four years younger than they claim, try
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by An Old Codger
21 lines, 12 comments,
on Sep 21 11:06 PM. In Contest, Picture prompt, Thoughts, Imagery, Creative, Life, Love, Aging, Family
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you have tortured me
for far, far much too long
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My silent tongue betrays
The depth of feeling
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varicose veins, like vines
they'll climb, up calves
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Left forlorn to raisin in the sun, His oaken cane supports and
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Sometimes there is no real place to call home; although, cliché has it that home
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What exactly,
is a senior citizen?
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As our hair turn grey, our identity will still stay
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When I turned 50 I recall thinking
A half century my hair is thinning
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but when Sega's dream died
did the cave within
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In the frosty deeps of age’s withering I dwell
attenuated,
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Your gray hair grows thin. Fragile as moth wings; your fading skin.
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This is a brief piece on time with a potential chorus, as most of my writings were intended to be put to music.
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An old child keeps the flame.
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How far can four years make you?
How far does four years take you?
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bored and lonely i feel today - nothing to do, not much to say not even trouble to swerve into, to stray
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(Based on “Having It Out With Melancholy”, by Jane Kenyon)
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beneath this layer of red decay
I still hold the shine of my youth
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The mirror bothers me, it stares back with silent mockery; The years are catching up and my face is showing its wear.
by SamishiiUnabara
61 lines, 2 comments,
on Nov 30 10:15 PM 2008. In angst, personal, thoughts, philosophy, life, death, aging, decay, regret
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THE FEARFUL ACTRESS AND THE AGING POET
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Just trying to (slowly) get back in the habit.
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Oh too old to forget, too young to let go of the kaleidoscope
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He walks along a moonlit path Through dunes of whitest snow
by Jmjaoj
32 lines,
on Sep 24 9:01 PM 2008. In Journey, Death, Old Age, Hope, Life, Change, Aging, Catholic, Christian, Snow
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When my day is over I look for rest,
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Dedicated to those who refuse to age!
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Of winter's wise
and whining wars,
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Why is it in this life, Can I not be who I am
In this life why must I change to fit those around me?
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feint red lines crab her cheeks
with eyes that seem to dream
by FransB
21 lines, 2 comments,
on May 1 5:59 PM 2008. In Aging
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The morning light fills my room and
a smile creases my face.
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Stop blooming!
Stop developing!
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Doctor, doctor, I see spots! My arms and hands are sporting dots!
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She is
a cast-iron cauldron
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Shipwrecks passing the time
In the night of the beached bonfires.
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