Silence reigned in the end

with rain pouring

from his sad eyes

the old man

told to me

his lifes story

in a trembling voice

 

when a child

he'd plenty of time

to endlessly explore

the puzzling pathways

around him

to find the key

to open the door

and uncover

the secrets of

of his universe

he saw the world

through optimistic eyes

 

As a youth he was rebellious

he rushed through

life in anger

had no time to

stop

notice

or consider

lifes obstacles

and threw caution to the wind

 

When a young man

he became a doubting Thomas

and worked hard for a living

to pay the bank manager

his schilling

and had no appetite

for lifes passions

 

as an old man now

he sees life

through pessimistic glasses

and the sands of time

have almost slipped

through his fingers

the onset of infirmities

has now numbed his imagination

he looks back

with regrets of how

things could

have been different

 

at the end

he sobbed unconsolably

and his voice drowned

into silence

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

◄ Will we meet again?

Busy rearing the young ►

Comments

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Sat 23rd May 2020 10:03

Abdul, this morning as I awoke, I found myself still concerned that I had been a little too bold in my comment here. Was I too bold?

Thanks for your response to my 'cancer pills' poem!

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Paul Sayer

Fri 22nd May 2020 00:11

Indeed 'old' friend.

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Abdul Ahmad

Thu 21st May 2020 21:53

Po

Men are perhaps discouraged to feel and express emotions from an early age. They are often reminded boys don't cry!

One can offer many reasons as to why the subject of this poem found himself in the predicament he ended up in. All meaningless. The subject knows the answer.

My feelings_ there but the grace of god go I.

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Abdul Ahmad

Thu 21st May 2020 21:35

Mortimer

Your observations of the ageing process are sadly too evident in the world out there.

You have wonderfully encouraging way with words. Your generosity is much appreciated and the red rose smells even sweeter.

Thank you.

Abdul

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Paul Sayer

Thu 21st May 2020 21:27

We are at odds with ourselves all too often.

Men, it seems to me have this strange affliction of not understanding the difference between thinking and feeling.

Ask a man...most men, a question they will reply with "I think..."

How seldom is " I feel..." their first reply.

Abdul, you are a feeling kind of guy what do you feel about his plight?

MortimerBlooming

Thu 21st May 2020 20:16

Old age really is such a bittersweet thing, just as you begin to get the wisdom, your body fails you and there you are a young soul richened in wisdom but in a body blistered and obsolete under the burdens of time.

A beautiful Poem Abdul, let us have hope and reminisce the mistakes we made as those made by unruly children

Mortimer

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Thu 21st May 2020 17:32

A very sad portrait, the alteration of his personality. But it is hard to be sympathetic.

After a 'happy childhood', the missing link is the anger of 'his rebellious youth', not knowing what or whom he was rebelling against. Perhaps justifiably; or not. Maybe just in his nature. The mundane years of 'making a living' honestly and consistently, seem to have squelched him utterly. But why?

Interesting reference, 'a doubting Thomas'. Open to innumerable ideas, not necessarily in Biblical terms. I'd really like to know the gist of your thought there.

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