Two Poems: "Boyhood," and "Old Age" [with a note on style]

Boyhood

Oh me! Thy glorious days have flown!

I mealy noticed, now they're gone,

How quickly passed the flowers!

Time does not stop youth's bells;

It was like I was in a spell,

And my face now shows the hours!

Ah yes! My youthful past days,

Still lively in my golden age,

When all was quick and new

Now wrapped in pictures and books,

And friends and family were all I knew

And love was shown by friendly looks!

#741 6/26/05

Old Age

They stop by to see me now

To find what's old and new,

They peer into my--everything,

And criticize my views;

They tell me what I should like,

And that I should be grieved--

These are my fragile friends

That takes the strongest liberties...

I mean to take the buzzer off;

And put the phone outside the door;

In vain I speak to tell them why

--I shan't live here anymore!

#742 6/26/05

A note on Style: some people ask, "What style of poetry to you like the best?" I can never answer that question; it is open-ended to me. If I feel like breaking free from tradition as in the poem of: "Old Age," so be it; and if I feel traditional verse, a stricter formal pattern should be used, as in "Boyhood," and can contribute richly to the poem, so it is. I guess a poem--my way of thinking anyhow--is meant, for man, not man for the poem. In a similar manner, like a Sunday, which is meant for man to rest, but not to be used as a tool for such a rigid life, that you leave the goat in the well and wait until Monday to get it out; you got to do what you got to do.