Friday, February 27, 2009

An Old Man...

(Tribute to an old man i knew...he made me who I am today. God Bless his soul.)

I know not what an old man says…
His words are feeble…they dwindle
Like a flickering flame in the twilight.

I know not what an old man sees…
His eyes look so weak and deep
They sometimes turn as white as snow.

I know not what an old man hears…
Shrills and screams mean nothing to him
He remains silent, mute as an iceberg.

I know not what an old man thinks…
He laughs sometimes in an empty room
He says he talks to angels and ghosts.

I know not what an old man is…
For he is old and I am not; I’ll know not
Not till the day I am old.


  1. dude, how much will you take to teach me some 'englis'???
    a prolific piece of poetry!

  2. Wow, wonderful poem. Your images are so clear that one feels all the pain and silence of this poem. Well done friend.


  3. awesome..

    lively...u actually made me feel the fact..

  4. you touched on it all, lovely images.