Old Man

Where grass and bending flowers Grew once like the weeds The field empty and barren For lack of sowing seeds

 

The old gray man alone now

attends to his dusty fields

Watering the emptiness

where the land no longer yields

______________________________

He wove his web of fashions

from the tears his pains had sprung

Where once he sang of starlight

back when both their hearts were young

______________________________

Then came the winds a-calling

turned to run a-hoping sure

To reach where she was lying

 sharing pains they'd both endure

_____________________________

The gales did blow around him

precious memories, he'd miss

Drops would fall upon his lips

those that hers would never kiss

______________________________

Where grass and bending flowers 

grew together like the weeds

Lie meadows all but barren

for the lack of sowing seeds

______________________________

The blushing, blowing Poppies

that once grew all around near

Fill the fields with memories

of the love he once lost here

______________________________

Each time he treads on his land

howling, sow-west winds a-blow

Not belonging, feels the longing

 mercy only God may know

Author's Note

I knew a man like this once. His life all but lived. He patiently waited for the end.Which wasn't long in coming. Children give us the legacy that makes the bitterness of our short life more tolerable

Reviews

[Devanshu Rajput]

This is one of the finest piece of poetry that, that I ever came across on this earth. What, flabbergasts me is not only the structure, but the story, that touches my heart.

This masterpiece is like nothing. Your note, deeply moved me. Indeed, kindness and humanity is something that can be felt, by everyone. In a nutshell,

"Compassion is an universal language''

Thanks, for bringing to fore this, piece.

Devanshu

[Tate Morgan]

Thank you Dev I thought i had responded to this from you I see i havent.

[Devanshu Rajput]

I'm glad you responded late, because this way, I got to read your piece again.

You're welcome. Take care.

Devanshu

[Tate Morgan]

Thank you young man

[Lisasview]

Hi Tate,
First the fabulous image you chose... I can not begin to express how very much I love it!!
Then the straight black line separating every four lines... fantastic...
And, then the powerful words ...well, they are so very wonderful.
Lisa, now in sunny Spain

[Tate Morgan]

I humbly thank you. I put a lot of time in this one.

[Lisasview]

I can tell... I often put a lot of time in what I write...
L

[Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn..]

Tate,

I do hope your shoulder is healing or has, since your surgery, healed well ...

Allow me to share that I was touched to the very core of my being by this ever so sad but majestically beautiful piece of Poetry that surpasses the term, well written ...

Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn de Graham

[Tate Morgan]

Marvin thank you. My shoulder has healed. This is the poem I spent the longest on. 5 years I spent writing rewriting it over and over

[Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn de Graham]

My friend, Andre Emmanuel Bendavi ben-YEHY, of AllPoetry, say that a poem is never finished until its author has died ...

[Tate Morgan]

Agreed ! I played this one over and over in my head 1 million times

[Jorj Jie]

Awesome 👏 Makes me miss my old man. How beautiful to have those memories inside our hearts not just on photos for it can be lost buy in a place where it can never be replaced

[Tate Morgan]

Thank you Jorj jie we all know these feelings we see them in others we either lean towards them or avoid like the plague depending on our ability to tolerate pain

[JE Falcon]

Each grouping is a poem unto itself but read together I see a visual story of life, loss, and love. --- Well Done.

[Tate Morgan]

Thank you JE

[M. J. Smith]

Lost lives and the memories they leave behind...
Like ghosts in old houses, they haunt us. Sometimes the haunting is gentle, even beneficial, a guardian angel. Others, it ravages us with grief and loss. Well written, Sir.

[Tate Morgan]

May we live to see our childrens children children

[Chris Shaw]

Always a delight to read you Tate. Your work is of a consistently high quality and this piece is no exception. A sad tale related here in superb form wonderful imagery, that leaves a lump in the throat. All the best.

Chris

[Tate Morgan]

Thanks Chris. I spent five years tossing this one around. Writing and rewriting it

[Kent Rawski]

This is a powerful piece a moving piece of life caught on the canvas of a changing background called life which one has to deal with. Great piece of work(art)

[Tate Morgan]

Thank you Kent. Life doesn’t deal all of us the same Hand.

[Shineheemi]

i really love the way you express yourself on your poem, i cant explain. i salute you!

[Tate Morgan]

thank you Shineheemi I appreciate that

[Fabian G. Franklin]

I just came because of the title. I thought it might be about me! (laughing) I like the analogy of fields and life, crops and children, etc. In my years I've buried more than a few friends, both my parents and a brother that I dearly loved. But, also in my life, I've made new friends and my first daughter was born the same year my dad died. My last daughter was born the same day my brother died. So I've never really had time to grieve. Life required that I attend the living and not the dead. Children are not only a source of joy but they give us purpose...they require our attention. So perhaps the good Lord knows I'm not made for grieving. Perhaps He gave me children to confront that very possibility. Anyway, I enjoyed the read, Tate.

[Tate Morgan]

Thank you Fabian I am in total agreement with you. Children give us a purpose

[Raj Sahu]

It is a lovely, lovely tale you composed. I like the very rhymes and the flow of the poem. The portrait of old man you drew was too real. Amazing work!
Thank you.
Hearty Congratulations!!

[Tate Morgan]

Thank you Raj It was my pleasure