I Gander A Chaste Sea — Journeyman’s Poems

The Peaceful Attire is Disturbed by the Sequestration of Age — A Poem Of Age — A Piece Of Isolation

I gander a clearing sight at trees;

An Old man, wasted by the lacking these here later years

Offer without the soothing of good friends and love —

The state remains cold and geriatric.

Be thy pictured fool! — He remarks.

A wistful tact by the somber sea

Wishes me on and on

Across some plain beyond my contention;

A leveling out during the barrister’s

Constant squabble.

Aye, one gander at this vamoosing and anchoring,

Morphing plain of the Waters that keep

An idle stroke far from eager ends departing.

The eyes that beguile themselves

On the endless tumult of battling waves;

Wooshing sea foam — diving penguins,

And booming looms.

His eyes grow chaste to the view —

The lacking is all that he can assemble;

The peaceful attire is disturbed by the sequestration of Age.

The idol stroke now is all that chooses to remain

By and by, through the beleaguered back of my aged sides

A waste, by the chaste sea —

Is all I dare to remain eager for;

Just a pleasant view before the final rest hereafter.

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