Old grey gardener
She is dressed to impress
The 50’s while living in the now,
She seems to make her world make sense
Although I can’t imagine how.
Sullen and sad
She is around to see the destruction of the world.
An investigator of time,
An observer of crimes against her fellow man:
A spreader of lies
And in her private moments alone at home
An unrequited lover of sin.
The old grey gardener waits to die
Or for a better offer,
She decomposes (the end is nigh)
Oh, won’t anybody stop her.
All it’ll take is a few kind words
To stop her tired old heart from bleeding,
She’s been waiting 80 years
For something to believe in.
All it’ll take is one kind soul
To stop her tired old heart from aching
She’s been there for 80 years
Posted in Poetry
Tagged about an actual human, age, aging, Death, gardener, gardening, gossip, lies, life, new poem, old, poem, poems poetry, poet, poetry, writing
They didn’t hear the warnings
Of the prophet-slash-tiny-little-boy
Who screamed strange sounds
And utterences of where the world was heading.
They tried to pacify him with food
But the tiny prophet only spewed,
And continued to expose with rage
The scandal that we lose with age
Our ability to close our eyes
And with awe see our hearts combine
With our actions as we live our lives.
The prophet cried himself to sleep
And the witnesses began to weep,
In his silence he had shown them how to see
And in his passion he had shown them how to be
Partakers in a holy mystery
With the maker of this point in history.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged age, aging, baby, child, desert cradle, dust, getting old, glimmer of hope, growing old, Hebrews, history, life, monday, monday poems, new poem, poem, poet, poetry, prophet, refresh, tree