As you grow older, you have a lot of memories. These are some poems about memories. The first was written when I started writing these verses I call poetry. The second was more recent. You can see the difference. The first was inspired by Walt Whitman.
A Memory
From thoughts that constantly ramble inside me, From sounds of the creek as it flows through the hills. From visions of light as sun shines through the leaves, From tints of redness in the hair of the sky.
From awakenings of sensitivities deep, From feelings of sadness that slowly have faded, I sing and I dance and refoice in their strumming, The music created by togetherness bundling, Pulses and prods and pushes my heartbeat, The drumbeat that surges the blood of my youth.
A remembrance of you.
Memories
Time can go awry, Moving backward, Decades at a time.
Set off like a rifle's report, Triggered by a single sight or some passing thought.
A feeling tugs, Memories flood, Emotions overwhelm.
P.J.Wolf
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Love
You can view love in a number of ways. You can consider the human side of love and Devine Love. These are the thoughts I have had about both.
God Is Love
I thought about some words I heard, "God is Love" a wise man said. They startled me.
I had heard those words before, never so loud and clear.
I thought of all the meanings those three words explained. Infinite love, limitless in its entirety.
I never understood, a cloud of cotton in my brain, this time pierced as the words came through.
A fleeting feeling of awe, a sense of something beyond, no intellect can argue.
Only elation follows.
Young Love
I remember love when I was young, like a burning burst of flame,
An exploding firecracker within my chest, totally insane.
When I was young I relished all the turmoil of the moment. The rush of feelings overwhelming,
The blush of craziness in my head.
Now my love is sedate, surrounding me with warmth,
Like an old easy chair, snuggling down into its depths.
This seems better to me now, comfort soaks and lets me know, the love I feel will last and last
Till my bones lie in my grave.
Both loves are something I have had
Both are welcome in my soul
They fulfill my greatest wish, to be loved until the end.
God Is Love
I thought about some words I heard, "God is Love" a wise man said. They startled me.
I had heard those words before, never so loud and clear.
I thought of all the meanings those three words explained. Infinite love, limitless in its entirety.
I never understood, a cloud of cotton in my brain, this time pierced as the words came through.
A fleeting feeling of awe, a sense of something beyond, no intellect can argue.
Only elation follows.
Young Love
I remember love when I was young, like a burning burst of flame,
An exploding firecracker within my chest, totally insane.
When I was young I relished all the turmoil of the moment. The rush of feelings overwhelming,
The blush of craziness in my head.
Now my love is sedate, surrounding me with warmth,
Like an old easy chair, snuggling down into its depths.
This seems better to me now, comfort soaks and lets me know, the love I feel will last and last
Till my bones lie in my grave.
Both loves are something I have had
Both are welcome in my soul
They fulfill my greatest wish, to be loved until the end.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Growing Old
As I grow older, I think about what has changed. This poem expresses some of those thoughts.
Growing old is confusing, A world inside that never squares with what you really are. Like waking up in some land where Alice lived, Never knowing when the rules will change. It is very strange. You feel able to do the things you did as a youth with dreams, that faith and work executed. They you try but find a rebellious body, a forgetful mind. The more you muse, The more you see. Your house of steel crumbling. Thoughts turn to a coming end. When you're young Life's an adventure like a novel, Never knowing where its author will delight or madden, Assured you will get to its end. When you're old, you never know if you will finish this chapter, putting the book to the side and leaving it there. Work began, projects started, Stand idle like the ancient stones waiting forever to be completed. Youth thinks not of death. Death embraces age, lurking in the corners of the mind as a shadow one ignores, clinging to the habit of the past. A time arives and mortality stares. We cannot ignore it, it is there before us with it's awesome fear. When it comes, we have no choice for death is what we, every one of us, share.
P.J. Wolf
Growing old is confusing, A world inside that never squares with what you really are. Like waking up in some land where Alice lived, Never knowing when the rules will change. It is very strange. You feel able to do the things you did as a youth with dreams, that faith and work executed. They you try but find a rebellious body, a forgetful mind. The more you muse, The more you see. Your house of steel crumbling. Thoughts turn to a coming end. When you're young Life's an adventure like a novel, Never knowing where its author will delight or madden, Assured you will get to its end. When you're old, you never know if you will finish this chapter, putting the book to the side and leaving it there. Work began, projects started, Stand idle like the ancient stones waiting forever to be completed. Youth thinks not of death. Death embraces age, lurking in the corners of the mind as a shadow one ignores, clinging to the habit of the past. A time arives and mortality stares. We cannot ignore it, it is there before us with it's awesome fear. When it comes, we have no choice for death is what we, every one of us, share.
P.J. Wolf
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