Eschew Obfuscation - Espouse Elucidation

Freedom of Speech Doesn't Ensure Freedom After Speech
JANUARY 1, 2013 7:01AM

A Poem For Seniors

Rate: 7 Flag


Old Man Sitting In The Sun


His eyes,

Turned inward,

Are his Time Machine.

I cannot see what they see;

They… Well, they no longer see me.


His hands,

Turned inward,

Seldom again touch mine.

Arthritic. Their feeling dulled by age

Yet... Sensitive and nimble; touch yesterday.


His smile,

Turned inward,

Tho not intended for me,

Is able still, to brighten my day

And make me wish that it was for me.


His mind,

Turned inward,

Returns in perfect clarity

To times where he lives again;

Making of memory… a Fine Art.

Your tags:


Enter the amount, and click "Tip" to submit!
Recipient's email address:
Personal message (optional):

Your email address:


Type your comment below:
It's not hard for people to accept that someone is old ... it's just that it's impossible for them to remember he or she was ever young.

Nice job, Sky.
A thoughtful poem. "I Did It My Way."
Making of Memory...a Fine Art.

I like your "portrait of the artist as an old man."
[r] how lovely and empowering. "Memory as a Fine Art"! I find only hindsight offers a bittersweet and/or satisfying closure to actions committed by me intuitively and instinctively in my past. Sometimes I bravely challenged my "conditioning", sometimes it controlled me like gravity for good or ill. So it goes. best, libby
The introspective view is what makes this poem so special.
It is also the double effect of introversion.
Where is the protagonist ? Can he be found yet one step back ?
Very fine poem , created with the loving touch of the artist.
I don't think Ive' ever seen anyone with FIVE blog posts in the top rated column before - congrats, Sky.