Three Poems by Milt Montague

life in the slow lane

weeks flow past in peaceful anonymity
no thoughts to disturb the serenity
I sit alone amidst my greenery
life pulses in the slow lane

surrounded by my green friends
the philodendrons and pothos
need but water and sunlight
in front of a large window

to wait and vegetate
slowly very slowly

one day an idle thought
intrudes most gently
becomes insistent
sound the alarm

a great new idea to explore
quick, to the computer
see if this evolves
into a poem
of worth



never yield**

the light dims slowly
but we all must fight on
continue our daily struggle
we cannot throw in the towel

our senses dulled
keep going forward
retreat not an option

continue the battle
until the I is no more
rage as we go forward

never yield to old age
the inevitable conqueror
when the sun drops below
the horizon the very last time



**with thanks to the master, Dylan Thomas



roses are red

bright red roses
with a whit of pink
to heighten the color

grown and groomed
for a brief appearance
buds ready for their debut

on the altar of love
smiling up at me
for a full week

now
standing
heads bowed
in mournful silence

their service completed
they are a lovely memory
waiting . . . fate in the dustbin

how fleeting is this life
but a blink in eternal time
to bloom and be merry today
because tomorrow will never be

Milt Montague was raised in New York City, survived The Great Depression, the school system, and World War II.  after 20 years back at college he discovered poetry at 85.  Now at 90 plus he has 65 poems published in 20 different magazines.