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As the ink dries--------------------

Our Winter Of Life

This cloud rolling in sets a gloomy dark light,
As the evening descends for another cold night.
I zip up my jacket and latch the front door,
As winter descends on this old troubadour.

I've had the warm summers, the spring of my life,
And danced through it all without taking a wife.
Lovers and friends are a phone call away,
But destiny brings me this solitary day.

The shutters are down, the curtains are drawn,
A fire in the stove to keep the flesh warm.
But my spirit it falters, alone and so free,
As I pull up a chair, surrounded by me.

Duty and love bring the offspring back home,
When we have to take stock, take care of our own.
This indifferent world gives no even break,
The comfort you need is the comfort you make.

I miss you my love; this duty of care
Has me long hours away from your long silken hair.
Your bright smiling eyes, caress on my skin,
And your words of affection, I long for again.

The old folks get by one day at a time.
Some days are hard and some days are fine.
Our winter of life is a sober prospect,
But memories endure, give heart and protect.

So life like all friendships must come to an end.
No one escapes, no use to pretend.
Marooned are we all as the darkness comes down,
So tarry no more, let love be unbound.

Give it your all; give it your best.
Let no passing soul, go by unblessed.
The good works you do like love lingers on.
And pain like the mist dissipates with the dawn.

J.W. 2003.

Owl at night.

You have looked at mortality full in the face and walked over and through it, as an undefeated soul who "will not go silently into the night". It's a quote from a film and also as old as the hills, but it has a strength and purpose which cannot be ignored, which is the strength and the purpose we read in your 'Winter of Life'. I'll be returning to this 'Winter' from time to time to remind myself of who and what I am. Many thanks and may your ink never dry.
Byron 'sends his regards'.

witty_owl wrote: As I pull up a chair, surrounded by me.

What a line!

I must remember it.... even if it never applies.

I mentioned, the other day, about growing old gracefully and was corrected, by my wife, that it would be more interesting for us to grow old disgracefully... now where does one start??

Thanks for the poem Witty Owl

Pete

Pete

To grow old disgracefully I would reccommend liberal doses of Leonard Cohen, Spike Millagna (The well known typographical error ), Tom Waits and Monty Python all washed down with liberal quantities of ethanol based substances.

JTS

JTS
If I follow your advice will I still be able to claim my pension or is there some small print that I can't focus on??
Pete

Through my eyes, lone owl at night, this undried ink is simply beautiful. When we are in the presence of another's mortality, it brings us intimately into awareness of our own. Your parents needing your love, your giving it to them through action. Your needing your own, your giving it to another through memory. Your physical descriptions of your surroundings and actions are wonderful metaphors reenforcing death. I appreciate how you express the ambivalence that comes with aloneness. Like Pete, I was also struck by the phrase, "As I pull up a chair, surrounded by me." The vitality and vibrance, with the verse about your love, then comes shining from out of the cold and bleak environment. And, with the way may we all end our lives, you end your poem, with the unerring force and truth of love. I love your poem, Witty. I'm very glad you accepted my invitation and urging for you to come here.

In the light of the lifted mist,
Elizabeth

We can't escape our mortality, and we have to face it. Every single day... But our own dying begins with us allowing Death to grow within our Life. "If I knew that tomorrow was the end of the world, I would plant an apple tree today," as Martin Luther put it.

Witty -

I've been coming back to your poem several times these days to read it again and again, and I always left with the same thought: "This deserves a better and a more detailed response than I can give right now." Time was not my best friend, and exhaustion confederated with loads of work...

Still I am unfit to word what I really want to say, but I won't let curtains of silence fall over this poem. So let it be an insufficient respose instead of none at all...

Yes, I agree with everything said before in this thread, and I won't waste your time by repeating all of it. "The good works you do like love lingers on." And the ink will never run dry.

Though lovers be lost, love shall not
And Death shall have no dominion.

Thank you for your lines.

Tom

To all who have responded, thanks for your heartfelt remarks. It is not easy to see someone you care for, decline and suffer. The duties I must attend to keep me 3 hours travel from my own home environment and friends, so I spend much time on the highway and much time to myself at night. Hence the reflection on my current circumstance and what it may mean to others beyond my private experience. Such is the function of art. To take a personal experience and try to find a universal relevance. If these words have touched a few others then I know there is partial success and some value in making the attempt to communicate a personal perspective.
Yesterday, quite spontaneously a melody and guitar accompaniment brought these verses into song. I do not know how or why but it sounds very much like an Irish folk song.

Yes I would like to hear more from you Tom.

Regards, Witty Owl.

Witt, a very good start to a classic song...........
an Irish folk song
Georges