That is no session for old men. The young

With lithe legs and arms stretch like sapling trees

We, flailing generation whose Latin songs

Fail inflamed and arthritic joints to ease

We began at eight, it’s now ten, how long

Before one amongst us succumbs, and dies?

Caught in that sensual music all wrecked

Monuments of years of bad neglect

An agèd man is but a tragic ...

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The arch poet tends to his row of beans
as once he broadcast words across the land.
He sighs for these stems of rogue angle
for as he outgrows limelight well deserved 
his arguments pale, but not love, for love
the arch poet tends to his row of beans.

For love the arch poet made the verses
to challenge the spirit of any age
who in adversity is found unfair.
He created a space for p...

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