Walt Whitman at seventy
Queries to My Seventieth Year
~ by Walt WhitmanApproaching, nearing, curious,
Thou dim, uncertain spectre–bringest thou life or death?
Or placid skies and sun? Wilt stir the waters yet?
Or haply cut me short for good? Or leave me here as now,
Dull, parrot-like and old, with crack’d voice harping, screeching?
Sharing this poem is part of my year-long celebration of turning 70 years old.
A Fondness For Reading 
Golly, he looks old. Ha! Age numbers are a funny thing – when I was turning 60, it was harder for me to accept that 30 or 40 or 50. I actually remembered my grandmothers when they were in their early 60’s and they seemed very old and feeble and ‘no teeth’. I know a lot of that was the time and no dental care because they were poor, but still. They were certainly not ‘checking their step number’ and wearing capris and athletic shoes and doing yoga or an IronMan like a lady in my WW group who is 63. So, Robin, I celebrate 70 with you (though maybe not like Walt) and I’m not going to worry about turning that age when my time comes. We will embrace every age!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m so happy to have you celebrate 70 with me this year! He does look sooo old in this photo and I told my husband that he must have lived a hard life. (I’ll have to read more about him.) I thought this poem was interesting, and the questions profound. He’s a wonderful poet. But I will simply embrace this milestone, with the help of friends.
LikeLike
He does look rather old for 70, but maybe all he needs is a haircut, clean shave and some attention to those eyebrows! 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Les, I think you’re right. All of that would make it possible to compare him to other 70 year old men! 😉
LikeLike