Future Plans

Photo by Ravi Patel on Unsplash

When I am an old, old woman I may very well be

living all alone like many another before me

and I rather look forward to the day when I shall have

a tumbledown house on a hill top and behave

just as I wish to. No more need to be proud—

at the tag end of life one is at last allowed

to be answerable to no one. Then I shall wear

a shapeless felt hat clapped on over my white hair,

sneakers with holes for the toes, and a ragged dress.

My house shall be always in a deep-drifted mess,

my overgrown garden a jungle. I shall keep a crew

of cats and dogs, with perhaps a goat or two

for my agate-eyed familiars. And what delight

I shall take in the vagaries of day and night,

in the wind in the branches, in the rain on the roof!

I shall toss like an old leaf, weather-mad, without reproof.

I’ll wake when I please, and when I please I shall doze;

whatever I think, I shall say; and I suppose

that with such a habit of speech I’ll be let well alone

to mumble plain truth like an old dog with a bare bone.

~ Kate Barnes

(from Where the Deer Were)

Quote on old age

Photo credit: chilombiano from morguefile.com

Wretched was he who, having acquired the supreme science of old age, sold his soul to unwrinkle his brow and recapture the unconscious youth of his flesh! Let the labyrinth of wrinkles be furrowed in my brow with the red-hot iron of my own life, let my hair whiten and my step become vacillating, on condition that I can save the intelligence of my soul - let my unformed childhood soul, as it ages, assume the rational and esthetic forms of an architecture, let me just learn everything that others cannot teach me, what only life would be capable of marking deeply in my skin! 

~ Salvador Dalí

Quote on old age

Photo credit: chilombiano from morguefile.com

Wretched was he who, having acquired the supreme science of old age, sold his soul to unwrinkle his brow and recapture the unconscious youth of his flesh! Let the labyrinth of wrinkles be furrowed in my brow with the red-hot iron of my own life, let my hair whiten and my step become vacillating, on condition that I can save the intelligence of my soul - let my unformed childhood soul, as it ages, assume the rational and esthetic forms of an architecture, let me just learn everything that others cannot teach me, what only life would be capable of marking deeply in my skin! 

~ Salvador Dalí

Death

Pic credit: Frank Thompson @ All Things Wildly Considered

She was not afraid of death. Death was a thief that always wore a mask. Accident, disease, stillbirths, old age, natural causes, war, murder. It existed in the shivering silence between tolls of a bell. It stole everything away while it left its mark, a dark knowledge that lingered at the back of smiling eyes, a hesitation between thought and action in times of danger, a heaviness that tunneled wormholes into happy memories.
She and death had danced together for a long time now. Sometimes they were partners. Sometimes they were opponents. Sometimes she might cheat him, but hell, that old thief was still bound to win some day.

~ Thea Harrison

Death

Pic credit: Frank Thompson @ All Things Wildly Considered

She was not afraid of death. Death was a thief that always wore a mask. Accident, disease, stillbirths, old age, natural causes, war, murder. It existed in the shivering silence between tolls of a bell. It stole everything away while it left its mark, a dark knowledge that lingered at the back of smiling eyes, a hesitation between thought and action in times of danger, a heaviness that tunneled wormholes into happy memories.
She and death had danced together for a long time now. Sometimes they were partners. Sometimes they were opponents. Sometimes she might cheat him, but hell, that old thief was still bound to win some day.

~ Thea Harrison