Tuesday, November 18, 2014

The beauty of life



The beauty of life
Of a hidden observer
That is what I am

It started when young
For I watched rather than did
Rather than join in

Shy to the extreme
How could I talk to the girls
Who just laughed at me?

It did me no harm
So I was the quiet one
Man of mystery

Must have a secret
So I must be interesting
That is what they thought

So I saw the stars
And the wind sway the tall trees
With chicks in the nest

I saw hidden tears
Both angry and loving eyes
And soft graceful hands

My life was so full
I tried to paint what I saw
But no, words were best

I’m now old and grey
Sitting, sipping my coffee
Writing about you

Image from www.flickrchivemind.net

10 comments:

  1. My hubby is a quiet one, and he always says it is better to listen.

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  2. Paint what I see, ... , writing about you. 'You' saw a lot.
    ..

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  3. Ah...I love the end. "...sipping my coffee / writing about you" Nice.
    Watching rather than doing, afraid to join in...sound a lot like my younger days.
    P.S. - love your recent movies list! Grabbed some good ideas from that so thanks!

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  4. The observers are the wise ones, they have learned so much by watching life's give and take. Such a beautiful wrap up of this tale and a reminder that being alone doesn't always mean lonliness. Being alone can have it's value as a life role, it does indeed draw us to the intrigue, some of the finest people I have known are the quiet ones who saw much and knew more, but could only be drawn out to share it if you waited and took the time. Great TST post, thank you!

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  5. Words are best. You have developed your own special writing genre - lyrical (or epic) haiku. Love it, Old Egg.

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  6. Indeed, a very reflective poem. The ending is particularly nicely done.
    You must have loved and lost, and loved from afar,as well, because you know the pain of these.

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  7. Although I can both paint and write, I think writing conveys deeper emotion and has greater flexibility of message. Good choice.

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