04-27-2014, 08:28 PM
An Old Mans Memory.
I remember the times when I was happy.
When I could be free with my words.
A time that felt more alive.(how can a particular time feel alive? Perhaps ‘a time when I felt more alive.”)
In that time lived a young man.
Who saw the world with bright eyes.
The air was crisp, and my steps moved in straight lines.(the air was crisp adds nothing to this)
I use(d) to smile then.
My voice was full of laughter.
Every where I went my libido would follow after. (makes it sound as if your libido is a separate entity!)
I was brave.
There was no fear in me.
I was young, and foolish to think I could live forever. (repetition of young boring)
I look at those times when I ruled the world. ( you don’t look at times past, you recall them...ruled the world? As in global king? Perhaps ‘I recall those times when I ruled my world’)
It brings a smile to these cracked lips and wrinkled cheeks. (so it makes him happy)
My blurry eyes drop a few tears in remembrance of forgotten years. (yet here he cries)
Moping Musings make for poor poetry I’ve found, and this poem doesn’t really say much, it’s just some old man musing about how life was better when he was young. Still, Ive read worse. Welcome to the site Marianne
I remember the times when I was happy.
When I could be free with my words.
A time that felt more alive.(how can a particular time feel alive? Perhaps ‘a time when I felt more alive.”)
In that time lived a young man.
Who saw the world with bright eyes.
The air was crisp, and my steps moved in straight lines.(the air was crisp adds nothing to this)
I use(d) to smile then.
My voice was full of laughter.
Every where I went my libido would follow after. (makes it sound as if your libido is a separate entity!)
I was brave.
There was no fear in me.
I was young, and foolish to think I could live forever. (repetition of young boring)
I look at those times when I ruled the world. ( you don’t look at times past, you recall them...ruled the world? As in global king? Perhaps ‘I recall those times when I ruled my world’)
It brings a smile to these cracked lips and wrinkled cheeks. (so it makes him happy)
My blurry eyes drop a few tears in remembrance of forgotten years. (yet here he cries)
Moping Musings make for poor poetry I’ve found, and this poem doesn’t really say much, it’s just some old man musing about how life was better when he was young. Still, Ive read worse. Welcome to the site Marianne