When does the value of life end and the dread of death start.
Age can’t qualify for your expiration nor the soul to break even
But as days close in, most would like to have a hold of a strong heart.
We value these days as the illusion of time follow through four seasons.
What waits upon you should never be the weight on your shoulders.
But rather it should be the weight dragging you closer and closer
What drags you may be known as indescribable, but some find it bolder
Bolder but also beautiful as what drags you is essentially the past itself.
Dread of ending is only as scary as what life has offered you at the beginning.
These are poems about time, poems about the process of maturation, poems about aging and growing old, poems about life's journey and its destination...
Learning to Fly
by Michael R. Burch
We are learning to fly
every day . . .
......
I don't believe in age.
All old people
carry
in their eyes,
a child,
and children,
at times
observe us with the
eyes of wise ancients.
Shall we measure
......
Slapped by the vicious hand of time
truth sits perched, atop it's finger.
Blood is drawn, and turns to wine
through life's infernal wringer.
Days accumulate like miles,
they take their toll in distance.
As sun baked earth, cracks a smile
travel on... despite resistance.
......
Bersi, the champion, famed in his day,
Agèd and bedridden, drowsily lay.
Halldor, the baby, the grandfather's pride,
Cooed in his cradle the pallet beside.
Recklessly rocking, the cradle fell o'er;
Halldor, the baby, was cast on the floor!
Strengthless to succor his torment and joy,
Bersi, the champion, sang to the boy:
'Lorn, by the fireside helpless we lie,
Grandchild and grandfather, Halldor and I.
......
Slapped by the vicious hand of time
truth sits perched, atop it's finger.
Blood is drawn, and turns to wine
through life's infernal wringer.
Days accumulate like miles,
they take their toll in distance.
As sun baked earth, cracks a smile
travel on... despite resistance.
......
Opalescent leaves fall
outside summer's green door.
Outbound, a year sparkles
once age has come with grace.
Orange sun, red roses
of a starry evening.
Old age looks back, dreaming.
Open field, shining snow
Crimson shadow, earthen flow
Brightest jailer, oaken bars
Things beneath lurk never far
Dry leaves flutter, wind will dance
Trees can whisper, sturdy trance
Rasp of winter, grind of time
Come spring again it won't be mine
......
Wicked aged woman,
wreaking harm with cauldron,
warty nose, crafty eyes;
Wisdom sees through dark guise!
When riding purple broom,
wild crone cackles at moon.
Warblers on crimson skies.
This age is increasing
There are still many things that have not been achieved
It's similar to my hair which is changing more and more every day—white like the dry season that leaves the leaves on the tops of the trees, it's so heartbreaking
Although very few expectations are achieved
Like nails and hair that fall off and grow back
It is different with the enemy—friends come and go
The only thing missing is the teeth that never go back
Nothing left with the family, which was never outdated even Though the country was under an embargo
......