Quotes about wizened, page 3
Dullness
Dullness! I am your devotee
You dispel the darkness of enlightenment
You drive away the heat of excitement
I have got rid of my dreams and imagination
Even tiresome fancies seldom nestle near me
Living and half living I see both the worlds
The world of the living and the world of the dead
I see the enthusiastic marketing men rushing about
in motley robes
I see the wizened deadbodies who were once alive
[...] Read more
poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Mermaid Kiss
Why am I jealous
Of the wind.
When we are supposed to be free.
When sweet sky
Blows my mind
With a new sunset,
Take me out to sea.
And rock me in the arms
Of a salty dream.
Lock me in the charms
Of a blue moonbeam.
And a Mermaid kiss.
Why am I imprisoned
When I see
Wild horses run.
Ambition,
Now wizened,
Cools in my evening sun.
So take me
On a stardust flight.
[...] Read more
poem by Kevin East
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Mom
She comes, a wizened, ruined thing,
Who wants no more, no less, than to
Be served and heard. She rattles off
Her trove of tales, each told a hundred
Times before, and, in the telling, tortured
Into fantasies of principle and pluck,
Of proof that, though she cowers,
Home, alone, she is, in fact, someone
Of worth. The world's learned. She
Thinks I should. I squirm in silence,
Knowing, as I have since I was young,
That nothing I have done would mean
A thing to her. She hasn't come for
Conversation. She is here to be adored,
And, as she drones, I dream of saying,
'You once raised me, Mother. Thanks.
I guess you did the best you could,
But, now, I find you awful and I wish
That you were gone.'
poem by Lawrence Beck
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Working Class Soldier
Working class Soldier.
Don’t blame the TV it is what you want, so smile to the camera;
whatever you do don’t show a picture of a mutilated alien soldier,
tomorrow we will win this war and you’ll be remembered as never
before. I wonder if the working class, one day will wake up and say:
”Why should we do all the dying? Ah, my man, problem is you like
fighting it is the only thing that gives gist to your boring life beats
clocking in at seven every morning; fight on friends our leader are
very good at doing military funerals, make you a hero for the day,
you will miss hearing all the blooming words and your wife will
be poor before the flowers have wizened and a hearse rolls down
the lane driving another soldier hero to his grave.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Our Mother Dear
Most lovely mother, you had been,
Whose love, unfailing, world had seen;
And duty-bound wife to father;
How lucky, we were all, rather!
Now old and wizened in life’s ways,
You pass your few remaining days;
With accomplished, still bright, a face –
A role-model for us, always!
Lord Jesus Christ awaits you, mom –
A righteous, precious, soul belov’d;
With gifts, rewards, priceless, handsome;
True Marian, Christian, you have proved.
Your prayers have gone to heaven –
You have children of grand-children;
The Lord is calling you from nigh;
That day, you’ll wish to earth, ‘Good-bye! ’
[...] Read more
poem by John Celes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Days Dad Got Imprisoned
How harrowing were the days dad got imprisoned:
Mom could hardly sleep, got her eyes wet, rings wizened.
Gnawing the tiny rootstock Mom spared for me: how sad!
I was so hungry, dad!
The cow feces I bore on my head across the river,
Wetted, dripped from the basket, salted my lips.
The heartless stream was still flowing to make me shiver.
Oh dad! such storms had risen to break life into chips.
After the flood, mom dried the damp hay nearly kaput;
Humping her back, she carried on either slender shoulder
The burden of family responsibility, bareheaded, barefoot;
She staggered, listlessly calling for dad, the householder...
Months had thus slipped away, and years gone by;
Mom still hid and rested her life in thatch, straw and slime.
I concealed my youth in such sadness as the immense sky,
Shouldering my days struggling to drain the sea of time.
poem by ThanhThanh NhuanLe
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Visit to Orcha: A visual exploration
River and tree look on morning town
And on the bridge and men and women
With loads of firewood from the forest
A bare-bodied man has sun on face.
Off the bridge a wizened old man
With saffron cloth drying on river rocks
Bends exquisitely with age and beauty.
A woman in red bathes on the river bed.
In the distance is the bank and history’s spires
On the bank a woman pours water in river
From a steel pot in oblation, to the sun.
As the sun glistens on the shaken river
River beats rocks in soft steady rhythm.
Men stand on the river frozen in time
Joyful women hide on the river’s rim
Waiting to burst forth in celebration.
A holy man stands tall on the rocks
Drying a red loin cloth, his hair mat loose
A boy silhouette crouches near the holy man.
On the tall mound sits the crooked holy man
[...] Read more
poem by Jagannath rao Adukuri
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Post-independent India
A populous country neglected stays!
Decades six have sped off since freedom -days;
Democracy remains its vital base;
Integrity's un-reinforced always!
A billion people's talent stays as such;
No leader has given the Midas touch;
Ignored is health of common people much;
Their future lies in doldrums, none to vouch!
Across the sacred soil, run rivers great;
Yet, internecine war-fares don't abate;
A few divide citizens by speech-hate!
A love of fellow-men misses till date!
Despite the many problems, India has done well;
Good leaders must soon toll the progress-bell;
A wizened heart must remove all pell-mell;
Heaven should come alive amidst the hell!
[...] Read more
poem by John Celes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Geranium
When I put her out, once, by the garbage pail,
She looked so limp and bedraggled,
So foolish and trusting, like a sick poodle,
Or a wizened aster in late September,
I brought her back in again
For a new routine--
Vitamins, water, and whatever
Sustenance seemed sensible
At the time: she'd lived
So long on gin, bobbie pins, half-smoked cigars, dead beer,
Her shriveled petals falling
On the faded carpet, the stale
Steak grease stuck to her fuzzy leaves.
(Dried-out, she creaked like a tulip.)
The things she endured!--
The dumb dames shrieking half the night
Or the two of us, alone, both seedy,
Me breathing booze at her,
She leaning out of her pot toward the window.
[...] Read more
poem by Theodore Roethke
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
A Commonplace Day (after Thomas Hardy's poem of that name)
All day from dawn to dusk, the drizzling rain;
everything today is painted grey;
and as for me - I shut my heart, alas;
and took that paint and washed my mind with grey…
Outside the window, just a pane away:
the eager soil, the leaves of plant and tree
bathe and sing and grow and shine with praise;
yet why do I not hear that song, in me?
more feeble I than plant or soil or tree;
I cannot even sing their humble praise;
why build a house against the water’s grace,
and leave my wizened heart dry, graceless, mean?
Better today would it have useful been
to be a raincloud; humble; generous;
free of grey thought that idly renders me
less than the least of servants of my God;
[...] Read more
poem by Michael Shepherd
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!