The old oil brush

recounts the strokes of

a blue, a violet, a red, a green

a colour swishing in the graying

minds of this old mind

that has seen its seasons

and the transience of time

move from one era to another

seeking a place

to find common ground

with the ageless future

but aging past

a history passed on

from generation to generation

a thought repeated over and over

changing its course

but yielding to the power

to define the ending

and yet what remains

is the wisdom of years

the knowledge of the ages

a wealth of choices

wrapped in a mind

that knows of its value

as it is polished in its

growing antiquity.

(C) 2012 Sherline N. T. All Rights Reserved.

This poem I wrote when thinking of those who have lived for a long time and have garnered so much wisdom throughout their years and my Grandpa is amazing with history. He has such a wealth of wisdom and I love it when he tells me stories of a past that I can only read in history books. It’s amazing how history repeats itself, and it’s also amazing how history tells of itself. Wisdom and Knowledge should always be shared and when it is shared, we should listen. Registered & Protected


8 responses to “Antiquity

  1. Very beautiful… and I like that you added a side note. Sometimes it is not easy to comprehend a poem fully because poets will use metaphors, etc.
    A very wonderful read my friend.

  2. “growing antiquity.” I loved it…and glad you have such a sweet grandpa…do continue to share his wisdom here on this very blog…..:)

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