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Songs To Aging Children Come

Through the windless wells of wonder
By the throbbing light machine
In a tea leaf trance or under
Orders from the king and queen
Songs to aging children come
Aging children, I am one
People hurry by so quickly
Dont they hear the melodies
In the chiming and the clicking
And the laughing harmonies
Songs to aging children come
Aging children, I am one
Some come dark and strange like dying
Crows and ravens whistling
Lines of weeping, strings of crying
So much said in listening
Songs to aging children come
Aging children, I am one
Does the moon play only silver
When it strums the galaxy

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song performed by Joni Mitchell
Added by Lucian Velea
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Stages

First of all...
I know it's not just all about me.
Only in my mind I am told.
And that seems to be aging rapidly!
As a glowing youth...
Dims to be conquered,
By an aging truth!
Overnight it seems.
Although many may refuse to agree with me.
Those into appearances and physicalities!

I am not one to be talking about looks...
But let me say this,
No pages flipped through books
Prepares anyone for the stages of aging.
Or when to apply a night cheek lift!
To become disappointed with the results,
That sit unresisting to stay for a long visit!

Compliments on maintaining a youthfulness,

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I See My Friends Aging

I see my friends aging
Slower in all they do-
The wrinkles and the hesitations before not remembering,
The difficulties in things done so easily once-

I see my friends aging
Sicker and sadder
Their eyes in some strange distance-

Some of them courageous
With plans and trips and grandchildren,
Endlessly going and doing
And being the best they can-

I see my friends aging
And wonder how long I too can pretend
Its still alright-

At this time of life
Time is cruel

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poem by Shalom Freedman
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Your Visit With Aging

I don't know why,
You believed I was older than you.
I use to be.
But you and aging have become much closer.
And it seems as if you have been convinced,
To interpret every year you have lived as a struggle.

I'm not trying to interpret my life that way at all.
When aging came to visit me,
I told it to make itself at home.
And if I choose to do what I please...
I'm not making an effort to be rude.
But neither am I going to sit with it to reminisced,
The good old days.

Too much everyday for me is new!
And...
I didn't feel I had to excuse myself from it to explore.
I just do.
You on the other hand...

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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My Mind Has More of a Youthfulness

Everyday...
This aging 'thing' seems to speed.
Some agitate their way through it.
Reminding themselves,
Nothing about this process
For them is welcomed!
And they are not pleased,
By anything it leaves.

And as I reflect,
Doing my best to accept this process...
I must admit,
Some of it I am not in total agreement with myself.
Although I go through the motions,
I am doing it with much ease!

Okay! I must say...
Sometimes I do get a bit perturbed and upset.
Especially when someone yells, 'Hey, grandpa.
Do you need assistance to cross the street? '

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Aging Man

‘The Aging Man’

The aging man sat on the concrete seat
Outside the hidden mountain cottage
The seat where generations had sat before
A family party going on inside the cottage
He sits and ponders his future
As generations have done before
Some chose the priesthood
Others opted for foreign climes
Some had gone to war
None of the family who had left
Had ever returned home
The eldest, as he was, of each generation
Stayed at home on the farm
He thought, this he might change
He wasn’t sure if he wanted
Another family member
Stuck on this mountain
In this out of the way cottage

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poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
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With A Sticking Comfort

It's not easy to leap and grow up.
Not easy to leave behind stuff,
That keeps one cemented and stuck...
With a sticking comfort.

People choose the things they do,
With a sticking comfort.
And it's hard to remove old shoes,
Fitting with a comfort.
But a yesterday has gone away,
Yet they...
Stick with such a comfort.
And in some minds they can't let go,
Even though their aging shows.

It's not easy to leap and grow up.
Not easy to leave behind stuff,
That keeps one cemented and stuck...
With a sticking comfort.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Dust Collector

Not as close to center.
And away from the spotlight,
On life's stage.
This becomes evident and noticed,
By the one who becomes of age.
And having it one's way...
Is given.
Without swaying any one's opinion.

'Hey why not?
They are not going to be around here,
That long! '

~They who?
I'm aging too and so are you!
IF you're 'lucky'.~

A withering in appearance,
Is experienced as this 'blessing' occurs.
And the one who goes through the process adapts.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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Proud To Exist To Witness Possibilities

I am glad I represent a generation aging.
With an acceptance to reminisce and reflect,
Upon the times I have been blessed to remember.
I am glad to be able to think with a thought process,
That connects with a wish to daily adventure.
And welcome a maturity I have earned.
With all that being conscious of it has to offer.

Although I will admit,
A loneliness when so many are dismissing...
There are phases of life that should be natural.
And understood with observations undenied.
And moving forward instead of backwards.
Or remaining down to earth unchanged.
As many aging with their delusions intact,
Would like to claim with a sameness of sanity.

But isn't that what stagnation is?
A stubbornness that is fixed in place.
With ways that begin to collect ignored dust.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Regardless of My Needs

Babysitting emotions,
Of those of aging rusty butts...
Does not set well with my adult outlook.
Since I know what it takes,
To pave the path I make.
No one has held my hand,
To prevent mistakes I took like a man.
And I can not stomach those who fake,
Heartbreak because of situations they create.
Or try to diminish their disasters done to others...
As nothing more than an oversighted blemish.
And hear them make attempts,
To run from their misdeeds like wimps!
I'm not living my life to run and hide.
Nor will I take the time to listen to others' sigh!
The strides I've taken...
I took as I cried.
Perhaps that is why,
Babysitting emotions,
Of those of aging rusty butts...

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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