Neil Siskind’s Poetry

Old and Cold

A weaker mind with stronger will,
his wayward thoughts are lined with ill,
anger, age, combine for truth,
rage ensues, with words in proof.

Youth of hope, but life of real,
imagined wealth with guts of steel,
dreams abound and thoughts aloft-
sure he’d conquer all and oft.

All men’s envy, he would reap
admirers a million deep;
short he fell for what he longed-
right in sow, in reap was wronged.

In daytime dreams a wealthy man,
but flaws would sink his crafted plan,
ventures stank with people’s rot-
efforts stymied, plot by plot.

Fiction falters, facts prevail
from storied battles, absent fail-
such stories, little more than tales,
where all the minnows, blubbered whales.

In his heart, the buried parts-
love and money – fits and starts,
with all the pressures life invokes,
the nightmare life of common folks.

Old age closer, father time
feeds upon a bitter mind.
Age can balance bring a soul-
but also ache of growing hole.

A lover’s heart, once warm and sweet,
stone-cold now, as if concrete.
Aging soul, once brash and bold,
survived … alive – but old and cold.

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