Tag Archives: growing old

Barmaid

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She says that she used to see me

On her way to school.

As she pours my usual drink, I think

Of Larkin’s “The Old Fools”.

And I cast around for something to say

About my so ordinary day

Thoughts of a Middle-Aged Man

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In early August

Leaves on the ground

Are blown around.

 

 

Autumn must

Come in with September.

 

 

I remember

Barefoot girls in summertime

And lust

Only half understood.

 

 

In woods

Autumn leaves become dust.

My blood

Still runs hot.

And the graveyard plot

Calls us all.

The Illusion of Time

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I am often told

That time

Is merely an illusion.

Yet rhyme

Has beginning and end.

And time

My ever present friend

Will stop

This ageing clock

In the end.

Now I’ve Passed the Half Century Mark

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Now I’ve passed the half century mark

And the dark

Of night no longer hides from sight,

A girl’s hand

Laid on my arm

And the charm

Of her dark hair

Can still command

My poet’s heart and art.

 

All you said,

Was “take care”,

But your long black hair

And open heart

Brought the thought of bed

Where no lover does grace

The vacant space.

I Walk at a Fair Old Lick

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I walk at a fair old lick
And pass many elderly men and women
With their walking stick.
And, should impatience try to master me
I recall that December
Comes to us all.
And find within me a temporary humility.

My Birthday

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When a silver-haired poet known as Kevin
Said, “I grow ever nearer to sweet heaven
As I turned 52 today”,
A young lady named Fay
Said, “you’re drunk and its not yet 7!”.

51

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Its my birthday today.
I shall walk in the wood
And maybe see
A nymph.
But, if so,
I shall be good!

I shall go to the pub
Tonight
And delight
In the company of companions dear,
As we sit near
To the open fire.

I am 51.
Over half a century has passed.
Tonight I shall raise a glass
And wonder where the time
Has gone,
And be glad
That I have
Friends, and rhyme.