Richard Allen Beevor
Again it Is
Again it is that I sit weary of this pitiful life,
now I can only rest in the silent rocking chair,
at the end of another day holding nothing.
The gas lamp from the wall shines light
that glows soft on my silver hair,
old age curbs the way that one would enjoy life,
ever forward I used to press toward another goal
but that was in days of my youth,
unlike this day.
Now all I have to console my heart are memories,
the songs my life once sang,
those happy laughing years that belong to tender youth,
my joy stretched beyond the sky
out into the space.
So I sit and remember as the sun sinks for one more day,
tomorrow holds nothing for this ancient old man,
yesterday at least gives me something to be happy about,
but then that only reminds me of what I am now.
So with another sigh that says life's over,
I lay to rest,
the world feels cold as I see it now through my eyes,
I gave my best and gained little in return,
the sun outside my window rolls away for one more day,
within my solitary room,
in my mind no more to say.
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Comments about this poem (Again it Is by Richard Allen Beevor )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
- you must be lucky to have found it, RIC S. BASTASA
- love became l o v e became LOVE and now .., Mandolyn ...
- that self-confidence, RIC S. BASTASA
- do not have to fathom it like some kind .., RIC S. BASTASA
- amor patriae, RIC S. BASTASA
- zanny on top of her hill, RIC S. BASTASA
- i'd rather be a sponge than be a sprayer, RIC S. BASTASA
- that steel hearted lady, RIC S. BASTASA
- the fingers and the eyes, RIC S. BASTASA
- Pure innocence, hasmukh amathalal