We were the youngest of lovers
Crossing the threshold of desire
Impatient and heated
Souls burning with the fires of youth
Bathing in the sureness of immortality
I shook my fists at the world
Then hid inside you for refuge
Sanctuary from an uncaring world
Now I am ancient
Shadows of crosses dull my eyes
So many years have slid past
Since first we touched each other’s hearts
Our young love still consumes my thoughts
Fills my passions
As if it were but yesterday
36 years have gone by way to fast
I built relationships I thought would last
It’s retirement day and I finally understand
I mean no more to them than the corner trash can
Winter in that city ripped the warmth from my soul.
All those faceless people with frozen hearts and minds,
Alive but not living, pushing… rushing…struggling
Like rats scuttling in and out of nameless places
Life there was for dreamers and only the young have
Any dreams left to give. There’s no inspiration
There for a man too old for imagination.
Not there among all those hurried, screaming masses
The stone is set
My die has been cast
What the future brings
Will slide into the past
No amount of want
Will ever make it stay
It will fade to memories
Of yesterday
At what point do I give up on my dreams
When do I know that my innovations
My poems or novels will not it seems
Live outside of my imagination
When should I realize that my brilliance
Is overblown desire; not artistry
They say I am showing my resilience
Not settling for my mediocrity
When will I understand that I’m lying
Thinking that there is someone who might care
When will it be alright to stop trying
Never! As long as you are there to share
Futile musings of an old ghost
Ramblings
Footprints of a Witness.
Poetry, short stories and a smidgen of real-life drama
Living slowly, adventuring often ✨️
The Poems of Sam Bartle
Gabriela Marie Milton - Three Times #1 Amazon Bestselling Poet, Pushcart Nominee, Publisher
Where curiosity meets opportunity
The musings and ramblings of a young poet.
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Life is a story, waiting to be told
Daydreaming and then, maybe, writing a poem about it. And that's my life.
Our thoughts define us, so let's focus on a few.
Jerry Brotherton 