In Old Age to Die Young
by John Herlihy
by John Herlihy
Just because I don’t remember,
Doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.
All the days of sweet September,
A voice calling, they do still beckon.
Therein be all the tempting mystery,
That lies patiently waiting to unfold.
Of the delicate fragility of memory,
That can break into pieces when cold.
Our memories as songbirds that fly,
Uplifted by air on feathered wings.
On their return we can never rely,
Heard only as notes on violin strings.
Into which heartland have they gone,
Singing to others their beloved song.
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That Lonesome Road
by John Herlihy
by John Herlihy
You loved me yesterday.
I'm not sure you love me today.
Will you love me tomorrow?
You spoke ill of me yesterday.
You apologized to me today.
What will you do tomorrow?
You praised me yesterday.
You insulted me today.
Will you lie to me tomorrow?
You arrived yesterday.
You stayed with me today.
Will you leave me tomorrow?
You left me yesterday.
You stayed away today.
Will come back tomorrow?
You met me yesterday.
You loved me today.
Will you hate me tomorrow?
We know what happened yesterday
We know what is happening today
We don’t know what will happen tomorrow.
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Copyright © John Herlihy
Thursday 20 November 2025
One Last Poem
by John Herlihy
One more poem and then I will take leave,
Some brief final verses of what I still believe.
The mind pours forth what the heart inspires,
Sentiments that still burn as smoldering fires.
Writing the only dream that ever came true ,
The one fulfilling experience that I fully knew.
Breadcrumbs of poems that never grow stale,
Little twinkling stars of night that never pale.
A young child’s poem that will never grow old,
An old man’s poem ever fresh, forever young.
Poem of the heart scripted by feathered quill,
A final miracle to occur, some inspiration still.
Every poem potentially as the one poem last,
That one poem completed that will hold fast.
- - - - -
Copyright © John Herlihy
Thursday 20 November 2025
John, my message to you is my final selections... Can you read it?
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