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Valsa George
A Lament
I know, I grow old….. I grow old
When silver threads peek in my head.
The flush on radiant cheeks wanes,
And a pallid tint creeps unseen.
Fading years have robbed the ardour
And a rigid sobriety sinks and settles.
I hear the howl of autumn winds,
That come to shake off the yellowing leaves.
Dragging tired feet through pavements
I try in vain to keep pace with the young.
Mind grows annoyed and distressed
As the bones beneath the skin go brittle.
The weary body spins rugged,
Like a rusted machine never overhauled.
The soul grows mutinous over things unknown
And reasons hard to trace.......!
There is a tumult in my silence
Like the undercurrents of calm waters.
Through miles on dreary miles of gloom
That stretch out before the eyes, endless,
Where can I find a quiet haven
To lower my burden and rest awhile?
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Loded with realism and coded with lamentation. Well done my friend!
a beautiful lament.this is a touching well written and thought provoking write..
and also makes me feel the aging process is another of life's mysteries..
The Lament is so true to life. There are so many people living as described by you - -with a tumult in their silence-and suffering for a quiet haven! The poem is highly praise worthy having dealt with all the aspects of senility.
Good discriptions. True to life. One must consider such facet as life progresses.
being 60 i can feel that tumult in the silence... the insecurity and loneliness of the mind and the weakness of old age on the body also well expressed....
Transport of thoughts must be a processing of emotions dear to one. Ageing can be a rewarding experience as well. I often think about the master poets, philosophers and artists who died young and then begin to rejoice at my own life with a longer entity.As your hair turns white and skins loses its tone, you begin to be more attached to your mental properties which stay back in the real form or even with better claims. We were lucky for having not been babies for ever and similarly we are lucky to reach the next stage of less physical importance.Good sharing for many like to getting older and wiser too over here
I'll be 65 this November! Some days I feel 21 inside, and somedays I feel very much like the words to your poem. You are a wonderfully gifted writer!
Nice one. The old age and associated stigmas narrated soulfully.
Wonderful poem on old age! The quiet haven is there. I don't know if there is a seat kept vacant for you. Rated *****.