Four Old Age Poems

Four Old Age Poems


“Wish I was
A Sparrow”


The birds chipper in the garden
in the mornings now—
hide, and meet one another
in the empty spaces—
in-between (all the hefty leafage);
even play in the homemade
birdbath…others keeping busy
feeding their young,
and building nests—
one after another—with
dried up—, older parched leafage.
They chipper away, seemingly
without a worry.
Now being in old age,
all I wish—is to be sparrow!
If only for a day.

No: 2656 (1-3-2010)

When we get Old

When we get old, like me,
we wonder why everyone’s
angry at everyone else
((at least for a flippant
moment now and then)(more
then than now)).
It’s really not a question—
rather a rhetorical statement,
and I’m not really looking
for the answer, it doesn’t
matter anymore (perhaps
never did, never came to mind
until now); nor do I have
the time or effort to care
all that much, I’d prefer
a nice tranquil day in the sun,
and let the young one’s figure it out,
they got to live with it.

No: 2657 (1-3-2010)

Josephus the Cat

I don’t really have a cat
but I wrote about one
in a story called:
“Sheep in the Fog,” and
I kind of liked him—he
gnawed like a rat at
Mrs. Stanley’s foot.
He reminded me of
William S. Burroughs,
the old Beatnik,
he couldn’t write a lick
but he loved cats—more
than he loved people
(appearing always
angry, never smiling,
sad as a dead goat).
Anyhow, what a life,
glad—now being in old
age—I got to live, and love
and smile a little.
If that’s all I get at the
end, Mr. Burroughs,
it wasn’t worth
the trip.

No: 2658 (1-3-2010)

A Good Wife!

Now that I’m old, I’ve learned there are three things that a woman can offer you: to be a good friend (which goes along with listening to you, being a kind of sidekick); to be a helping and devoted wife, and share your spirituality; to be a good sex partner—and I mean, to be involved in it, not just lay in a trance. Actually, all these should be part of being a wife. I ask myself “Why did it take four wives, and over five decades, for me to have to learn that? Perhaps, women are sneakier than I thought: they don’t want men to know.

No: 2659 (1-3-2010)