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Unintentional Existence: Eighty

Eternity is that even the rich lacks
Let’s reach climax
Before the day darks.

Eighty years is just a stone throw
Let’s enjoy love tasty taste and row
Before or if it ever turns sour while we grow;
Energy we have shall then decline.

Let’s smell the fragrance of love
Before the tiny space dilutes and take it away.

Emphatically, everyone of us knows
Love one has is a love one shares
By then no more normal trophy cells

Even ‘bam-bam beat’ is calm and nice
Lovely in love enjoying sight and sound
Before the endless dark lightens up-

Eating us up now that we are young.
Listen! this heart can wake the dead
But once upon a time at-

Eighty we shall tell, stories beside atrophy cells
Love and time, organs age with us:
Beware the clock is a running tap and,
Eighty is just tomorrow to come.

Let’s make love a busy broom
Beautifully now no forever young.

Old age

 

 

 

My Grandfather (†); photo from January 17.JPG

Image via Wikipedia

 

 

 

It Is just a figure they call in numbers

Had I have known had I have recalled,

My formation, my cries

All what it was growing as kid.

Didn’t know how I felt, ought to have remained

But I kept replenishing; development we think,

Happy I grew pubic hair, fine enough for the growing man.

Why the rush? When there is a time for every thing.

Perfect since I did my childhood impossible.

Years run by, years gone with different memorable events

Should have reached the space boundary

My brain has a limit.

As I grew older I picked the present memories.

Leaving the past for several glancing without a going back

Both good and bad, OLD AGE IS JUST DEATH

WHEN ONE PRECEDES IT,

LIFE IS NO LONGER ASSURED.

 

 

 

 

by Onyeche Vincent Onyeka

(c) 2009 http://Onyecheonyeka.wordpress.com

 

 

 

 

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