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.

6 comments:

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

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

    love-bd

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  3. awesome..

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

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  4. you touched on it all, lovely images.

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