Sunday, April 5, 2015

Senile Broodings

Rating: 5.0
Knowing it is futile
I seek my youth,
In the hallway of life,
Like the blind after a spectral shadow

When I see the frolicsome youth
Leaving the campus gates on every eve
How I long to retrace my steps
To devour once more the tastiest slice of life

As I see the waves advancing to kiss the shore
How I long to embrace my youth
But when I hear their retreating roar
I discern, the old has to pave way for the new

With a jolt I realize, time has fled like a thief
Stealing all my treasures away
I could hear the sound
Of fast falling footsteps behind
Alas, couldn’t catch up with the villain
To retrieve the loot

The grains of sand have slipped off
So quickly from the hourglass
Alas, time like a sweeping whirlwind
Never stops or pauses for anybody
Age has left me fidgety and frail
And I abhor looking into the mirror
For fear of being repelled by my image

I have fallen like a spent star
Into the singularity of life
My limbs are not supple any more
But leathery and slow
Life has been a roller coaster ride
Now the fuel is almost spent
And at the indicator
The needle has hit the minimum

It is now time to bundle up
As the winter blasts are around
Being at the periphery of life
It is also time to tie a noose
Around all my unbridled desires

Here I stand alone on the sea strand
Looking at the russet sunset
And drag my feet on a return journey
To fall into the ensuing silence!
Valsa George
Topic(s) of this poem: old age
Time. Its a villain who steals away everything in us, health wealth, happiness and the like leaving solitude and dejection as our companions.
0 0 Reply
Denis Mair 08 January 2020
In this fleeting present moment, feeling the pull of the future, yet still paying tribute to one's past self, all the while accepting and dwelling in silence, for silence is the shared common ground of one's past, present and future. .
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Tom Allport 27 April 2017
a reflective poem of what was stolen by a thief named time? ..................superbly written.
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Akhtar Jawad 22 January 2016
After a long struggle at last I found a poem of Valsa not yet read by me. When I read it I said to mtself, tastiest dishes are those that are cooked after a lot of fatigue. The poem is such a dish that I found after nine moths of its coming in existence. I refreshed it in the Microwave Oven of my brain and my heart enjoyed it as a nice freh dish. Valsa it's a great poem..
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Stephen Katona 27 April 2015
Continued - In my mind's eye, There's no time to cry, For in truth, I never lost my youth, My beauty lasts for all time, In delightful words of rhyme.
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Valsa George 29 April 2015
Happy that you retain your youth And discern the truth That rhyme has such an impact That aging cannot distract May your youth protract! !
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Chandra Thiagarajan 12 April 2015
A marvellous poem brooding over old age..Loved the great write, Valsa!
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Paul Sebastian 10 April 2015
A great poem on how much of youth we had missed with aging. A reality to face gracefully. But still, there is so much of youth in us left to enjoy, to share, to give some people hope and direction, to rekindle someone's dream, contribute to the lives of others...Valsa, I see your youth in the poems you write. They say age is made up of digits. No stop to loving life. The best is yet to be. Thank you so much for the reflective poem.
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Akhtar Jawad 10 April 2015
Why should I think, I am old, I think I am still a youth, I live like a youth and I shall die like a youth, but after reading this poem I became a little old. No problem, I shall write a poem that will make me once again a youth. You speak the truth but sometimes a lie is needed.........10
0 0 Reply
Rajesh Thankappan 08 April 2015
It is also time to tie a noose Around all my unbridled desires. Though the time gallops away yet in the cellars of the mind lie unbridled desires that rear its head and spin us in a web of regret. I very much agree with you when you say that ' It is time to tie a noose around all unbridled desires, ' since that alone can pave way for better utilization of time presently on hand. I too often think, if I could plant my steps once again in the past, how I would have done things differently. This poem deserves a perfect 10.
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Kee Thampi 08 April 2015
sooner the time left a window, and coll breeze fall makes the poetess to know looting of beauty of a flower.... Age has left me fidgety and frail And I abhor looking into the mirror For fear of being repelled by my image
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