The Peach to the Prune

The peach to the prune
the magnificent to the ruin 
the boy to the man 
and the girl to the gran.


We see the youth gain age
which can turn to rage 
maybe not quite wisdom
I wonder, what will I become?


From the petals of innocence 
with slow shuffling reluctance 
we gain more life, grow old 
and what comes exactly after that?


Well, 
it's a secret none of us have been told. 

Where Death is Hiding

It's in the pavings of the street
it's in every single soul of whom we meet 
it crawls along the hospital walls 
it stretches great heights and goes great falls.


It's in the boom of a thunder clap
it's in the darkness, a looming gap
It's  in a person's deadly gaze 
it's in the calender, counting down days. 


It's on every mile, of every road 
it's in the water, far down below
it's in the earth itself, forever there
it is always crouching, always prepared. 

When I Was Your Age

Think I mentioned my idea for this a few posts ago? I got it yesterday =]

But not writing a poem about it because the seems silly xD 

When I was your age

I wasn't like that, right? 

I was older when I did that

and that 

most definitely that

Or maybe they're not the ones

growing up too quickly

I am.

And as the technology increases

so does the ageing process

leaving us reeling 

and trying 

to keep a firm grasp 

on our own reality

and look back fondly

on the fantasy 

of when we were that age. 

Wasting Away

When I'm older 
I want to be me
not like them
still passionate
not tired
not resting
but living
appreciating 
the smaller things
happy
free. 


When I'm older 
I want to be alive
not wasting away.

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This is what happened yesterday -.-

Hence why there was no blog. However, I can assure I did write one, I just wasn't able to post it. 

Note the date of the word document..... Anyways here is yesterday's poem.

Old Man Time

Time drags it feet

shuffling along the pavement

painfully slowly

like an old man

lost in the memories 

of decades gone by

it stops to tie its laces

before continuing 

no hurry to get anywhere 

not today.  

Fleeting Youth

Feeling of youth
is fleeting
Soon to be greedily
consumed
by years.
Fears
not so much of grey
or wrinkles
but of slowly
breaking down.


Don't think of this
until you see,
barely,
living proof.