old man

old poem

one river

flows through me

i open the wind

trees whisper

the moon laughs

my hands

touch the sky

the children

love my eyes

Reviews

[Gandré]

Perhaps the Freudian inversion. Whatever one is in the inside, he presents the opposite on the outside. I liked this.

[...]

Ed...this...you touched me deeply

[Ed Hart]

it is such a wake up call, this slowing down

[1VJ]

Old Poetry, old man, but the succinct sentiments are still crisp and current.

[Ed Hart]

old man, new friend, thank you

[1VJ]

I shouldn't have said old, vintage always sounds much better. As they say, age is just a number.read moreI shouldn't have said old, vintage always sounds much better. As they say, age is just a number.

“Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.”
― C.S. Lewis

[barleygirl]

I enjoy these brief images painted with wispy watercolors (referring to your last few poems posted recently that I've just now been reading) . . . altho (as you know) I am more likely to understand a straightforward message better than something nuanced like this. Such a short poem simply leaves me wanting to know more . . . it's not enuf for me . . . I wish you could share more details of this scenario . . . but I guess you write for those with rich imaginations, readers who want to "finish" the message in their own minds.

[h d e rushin]

I have an old mother Ed. She has mostly forgotten how to cook and most of her memory is
inexact and vague. But she still calls me dana, (little d) as if I was 12 again. And I always answer
"yes mam", and only then can the conversation proceed. When she walks in here immaculate garden,
"trees still whisper and a river of knowing runs through her". And thank you for that image.

I have noticed that your poems are getting shorter. I think it is done to impose a sort of
self-evidence. "Take a look yall and what just happened.....Your an amazing writer....dana

[Ed Hart]

thank you dear dana, truth is, i am written in the poetry

[Butch Decatoria]

Profound and artistically loud in its imagery and poetic message...father time, god or some symbolic form of old... aging is a mortal precept -- a periscope of a one eyed leviathan beneath the deep, telling the strong about numbers timely convincing us to grow weak... but in the eyes of our children, beloved immortality... deeper mr. nemo, your soul here we read... bravo.

[Ed Hart]

thank you my friend, you maintain the skill in your eyes and your words

[Beccy]

One of my grandfathers, (on my mother's side,) used to take me and my sister fishing when we were children. The other, a quite wonderful chef, taught me to toss pancakes to perfection. Both had love in their eyes that I shall remember forever.

It's not fair that you made me cry with this poem.

Beccy.

[Ed Hart]

you have had some wonderful people pass through your life...the true gifts...i like pancakes

[Lyn Anderson]

This is absolutely beautiful. The eyes of an older person can be so beautiful.

[Ed Hart]

thank you KL...i love that searching look in a child's eyes, even a babe beginning that long journey of organizing the world into meaning

[Ken Simm.]

The brief thoughts of experience and wisdom.

[Ed Hart]

thanks for your comment Ken...if you could see my bandaged thumb and my no so innocent table saw you would wonder at my experience and wisdom

[Kelly Scheppers]

Your expression with the brevity of words is something I admire...it's truly quite beautifully executed here!

[Ed Hart]

thanks for your kind words...bottoms up, the glass of course