My husband's poetry

Category: Aging

  • Night stand

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    I saw an article about the planning of the funeral for the queen of England and she’s not yet dead. And I thought funerals are for the living, the almost living, the almost dead; survivors or rather temporary survivors filing past a casket or urn sitting on a night stand dressed up with an embroidered…

  • among rocks

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    run without restraint into the wilderness without the limp of insults to this body sit among rocks – comforted and comfortable watching for stray dogs and feral cats to see where they run, where they go where they find shelter from the rain 8-23-22

  • an overdue poem for a friend

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    How long did the tree stand stoic and strong before the crack, the fall, the thud, the tearing at surrounding trees on its way to ground? If I knew today was your day to fall, would I have come the day before stand next to your trunk or climb up and sit awkwardly in your…

  • Birthdays

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    The last day of winter sits forlorn Next to first day of spring On our kitchen wall Only twenty four hours older But no one celebrates its coming They aren’t that much different And some years Winter looks better than spring 7-24-22

  • naps

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    …forgive me if I take more naps than I used to on the backs of my eye lids maps etched of places I’ve been and places I still want to go vignettes written of folks I know and imagined conversations with folks still here and folks now gone I’m not tired I’m just planning where…

  • the weight of living

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    by

    cfblack
    in , , ,

    1. Because they were loved and were loving Because they were needed and were needy Because they did not want to be misunderstood 2. Because they would not submit, they stayed, as long, as they could. Eventually the weight of living became too much They knew they could not wait long enough For the loving…

  • old age

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    Because the feral grey cat was not blessed with opposing thumbs and death knew where to perch so ticks could suck its neck, there was not one damn thing it could do to alleviate the itch. It did not lament impending death and went on living, hunting food, rolling in the dust, fleeing just beyond…

  • haiku for an elder man

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    like a dog outside the tennis court fence, he waits for one ball to play 6-30-22

  • Everyday

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    by

    cfblack
    in , , ,

    everyday the challenge the desire to change to become a better human everyday the self-knowledge the awareness of inconsistencies lies that become truths everyday you become older closer to death becoming more alive everyday you realize you will not live long enough to become perfect everyday you strive you become stronger and more and more…

  • The last fast

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    Days of malaise days of no energy days of frequent naps days waiting for the sun to set Maybe it’s the aging out of an obligation to fast maybe it is feeling old maybe it is being old maybe it is coming out of two years of pandemic isolation maybe it is all of these…