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Late Wind

Phillip Albert King 1944 (Manhattan)

It matters not the wind that blows, or from which way it steals.
Only that the late wind knows, and comes on winged heals.

About this poem

We all would like to think our feet are firm upon this earth, and that we are secure against every wind. Yet in the late wind of death, we cannot stand.

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Written on February 04, 2022

Submitted by phil0238 on February 04, 2022

7 sec read

Phillip Albert King

An old poet, trying to say something about and for my friend. more…

All Phillip Albert King poems | Phillip Albert King Books

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Discuss this Phillip Albert King poem with the community:

  • Dougla$Irishman
    Phillip, I am 10 years older than you and have fought the many winds of life !
    We were strong than but now we are fragile as that final wind will knock us over !
    But no regrets as I dissipate Heaven's calm !
    Keep writing those words of wisdom !
    It keeps old guys going !
    LikeReplyReport7 months ago
    • phil0238
      Kind words from one gezzer to another. Yes, we are not always running against the wind...at our back some times.
      LikeReplyReport7 months ago
  • phil0238
    Douglas, thank you for reading and commenting on my few words.
    LikeReplyReport 17 months ago
  • Dougla$Irishman
    Interesting few words to describe our sojourn here on earth !
    Old guys will remember the hit song of 1963 "Call the Wind Mariah "
    LikeReplyReport 17 months ago
  • phil0238
    Thank you for your kind remark.
    LikeReplyReport 17 months ago
  • Soulwriter
    Wise words.
    LikeReplyReport7 months ago


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"Late Wind" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2022. Web. 3 Oct. 2022. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/119125/late-wind>.

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