aging
Narcissus with cataracts
We can’t speak of a man admiring himself in the water without raising the specter of Narcissus, the beautiful young man of Greek myth who fell in love with his own reflection. He stared at his image in a pond until he died of starvation.
MoreClap hands for a more youthful reflection
I’m trying to get my old men/sad men poems posted before the end of January—I got waylaid by a broken laptop and a too-long repair job (truly the techno-dog ate my homework)—so to keep things moving along I’ll post two short poems today and the longer ones by Friday. Then I can say fare-thee-well to the […]
MoreAuld lange . . . sigh
Here at the beginning of the 20thyear of the 21stcentury; in the spirit of “out with the old, in with the new”; bearing in mind the cartoon personification of the passing year as a weary white-haired fellow; in special consideration of those readers of age to shudder at Father Time; with a sympathetic nod to […]
MoreThe Rest not restful at all
The Rest by Lawrence Raab You’ve tried the rest. You’ve waited long enough. Everything catches up with you. And you’re too old, or too young. Or you don’t have the money or you don’t have the time. Maybe you’re shy, and maybe you’re just afraid. How often have you heard […]
MoreTweets for the non-twittering
I’m a lacksadaisical tweeter. A now-and-then and if-the-mood-strikes-me user of social media. Which is why I only have 65 followers. That’s ten less people than I follow myself. This post isn’t a plug for my twitter feed (I tried that here before and it didn’t help). It’s an announcement that I’m going to start posting some […]
MoreSo no more we’ll go a-suntanning
So We’ll Go No More a Roving By Lord Byron (George Gordon) So, we’ll go no more a roving So late into the night, Though the heart be still as loving, And the moon be still as bright. For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul wears out the breast, And […]
MoreOh for the days of strong legs and thicker skin
I may live on until I long for this time In which I am so unhappy, And remember it fondly. —Fujiwara No Kiyosuke Translated by Kenneth Rexroth I found this poem in a lovely little book of my father’s called 100 Poems from the Japanese. I have no idea why he bought […]
MoreComing of age
WATER AND FIRE by Rick Cannon For a long time with the heavy, dreamy struggle upward, the natural cupping of the hands, the lengthy earning of a stroke, – a man does not know fire. It’s not until he sees how easily things melt and slide away, – how his father went, his mother fails, […]
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