The Old Ones

They are gone now
The old ones
They look down at me
From the framed photographs
Walls are adorned with them
My eyes are weak now
When I look up at them
I do not see wisdom anymore
But the message is clear
One day I shall have my place
Amongst them
A lifeless framed photograph
Someone may look up at me
As I look up now
And hear the words of wisdom
Spoken many moons away
Don’t waste your precious time
Once gone, won’t come back
Yeah right
What am I doing now


This poem is in response to Jane Dougherty’s A Month (November) with Yeats Challenge day Three

Author: pranabaxom

Poetry is my passion. I am not a methodical writer. I have no set topics to write about. What I feel, perceive, think about, I will like to share in this blog. I open my mind to the world. Like the weather, sometimes my poems are cloudy, sometimes stormy. I always like to see sunshine streaming through the leaves of trees, so I hope I can share some of those sunshine with my readers.

7 thoughts on “The Old Ones”

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