Old Men
I watch the old men
Who run the world’s show;
With tails in the air,
They try this and that.
With bully-boy flab,
A conscience unpricked,
Their memory slack,
Their puny goods limp,
They slaughter at will,
Kick out at the cat;
They burp and they lark,
In packs at the swill.
I hanker for youth
To take its turn still.
Stephen Gospage
Thu 8th May 2025 07:16
Thank you, Uilleam and Graham. Yes, the wisdom of old men seems in short supply at the moment. The second opinion is a good point, Graham.
And thanks to all who liked this poem.