Using time and growing old

Each day that passes is a tick of the clock, and although I live in paradise (see pics) small things rob me of the experiences that really matter. Defining what really matters is almost a life long lesson, all I know now is in my eighth decade, i have a clearer idea.  I don’t want anything that spoils my loving relationships, nor do I want to leave anyone behind who will be lost without me.  I want to share everything with them as well as write something that’ll move a person or two whether I’m here or not.

Today i have been mulling over some important challenges and choices that I face, and I am resolved to change nothing.

Tonight we will have some chums over for dinner, share some good food and some decent wine, what a joy, what a lucky bugger I am.  I just want it all to go on.

I’m older than I used to be……

 

       

I’m older than I used to be,

I remember yesterday quite clearly

I was clever smart and sharp,

each day had purpose

Now I’m not so sure, what to do.

I search for yesterday.

 

No one knows nor cares about my worth,

my talent or my wit.

Each day that passes is lost in nemesis,

What can I do to stop the rot,

the decay of sitting still and waiting

For publisher or acolyte to call, –  they never do.

 

How shall I shout and make the world aware

of all I have to offer.

The world shouts back in stony silence,

alarming with disinterest,

The insistence to do something

rings hollowly from within,

 

I cannot stand that silent din of emptiness,

come muse and help me sing,

What music is irrelevant,

as long as there is a tune,

It’s mine that no one else can play

or write or paint or sing.

 

It matters not that no one hears,

perhaps the word will entertain

When I am dead and gone,

the words echoing in my wake,

Perhaps they too will die silently,

unknown unread and dead.

 

No one will care, so why all the trouble

to make a new creation?

I have no idea, – to fill the days?

To live In hope of some tiny immortality?,

But if those words and songs,

they die with me.  So what?

Image

About manseljames

75 yrs young happily living in the land of my fathers. Married to the lovely Dawn and father of my lovely Vicky. Poet and writer who scribbles away every day. Write novels, blogs and poetry and don't much mind if the works reach a wide audience or not. Well traveled but now putting down roots at last. Not much of the world left to see! Thankful for a great life so far and revving up for a strong finish!
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