Reflections From An Old Man’s Diary Poem by Thomas Vaughan Jones
Reflections From An Old Man’s Diary
Yesterday we set the vine
with quickened heart and supple limb.
We drank from eager honeyed mouths,
played Harlequin and Columbine;
While Time sat on the mantle piece
counting away each precious hour.
Today we thresh the golden corn
treading our grapes and drinking wine.
We use up our maturity
to reap the harvest we have sown.
We ponder on our long lost youth;
while seasons pass with dreadful ease.
Tomorrow holds it's mystery
in shrouded halls of swirling mist.
The fruit lies withered on the bough,
while we walk into history;
The heart no longer counts the years,
and all we were lies quiet and still.
Such a sublime melancholy song. Wonderful. It strikes the heart of humanity, the core of being.
Very nice, Thomas, but from what old man did you borrow this? Surely, you're not referring to yourself!
(While Time sat on the mantle piece /counting away each precious hour) . So pathetic. When a time is gone, it can not, never, be reversed again. We are faltered by the endless ticking of time and at the end, (The (faltered) heart no longer counts the years, /and all we were lies quiet and still (in the grave)) . Good work, Sir. It bears the same theme as my poem, PEREGRINATION. Once again, this is great.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/18/2024 7:41:37 PM # 1.0.0.1119
The eloquence of your pen speaks volumes on the quality of life contained in your memories... I tip my hat to you, Sir! I took pleasure in the reading.