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Love Retirement Poems | Love Poems About Retirement

These Love Retirement poems are examples of Love poems about Retirement. These are the best examples of Love Retirement poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Quatrain | |

Happy Husband Hears No Alarm

Waking with a smile, eyes bouncing green, dear husband
makes me hold back my scream, desire to pull over sheets.
Later, I find you sitting like Buddha, gazing at the land,
shifting as each birds lifts and soars and tweet tweets.

I watch you in silence, pick up slippers, my piles of papers
find my own breakfast to leave you undisturbed in dream,
you thank me so many ways, your face relaxed, finger tapers
held on belly, sometimes I wonder if you see past the gleam

Of heavenly contentment, lap of pool, sun blazing warm
the face so bruised by clenched jaw now so smooth
I never dare to battle you, drive you against walls or alarm.
Retirement is a silence of weighty falling before well oiled groove.

Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper | Year Posted 2014

Details | Acrostic | |

Reflections: Midlife Crisis

P     aranoia permeates, etching itself into your fractured face,
A     cacophony of constant pressure; life remains a stressful race,
N     othing to hope for, no positives like promotion in the workplace,
I      nability to love, relationships lift anchor and set sail without chase,
C     hildren crushing dreams under mortgages; age grows with disgrace
!!

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? | |

The Beach of Promises

The Beach of Promises


1.


Fingers entwined, barely touching,
turquoise waters teasing your dancing toes,

strolling along that serene deserted beach,
our promised dreams within aching reach.


2.


Hands clasped, holding on,
sea-breezes tickling the nape of your neck,

walking together, alone, vowing to never breach,
the dreams dreamed on that faraway velvet beach.


3.


Hands in my pockets, alone,
traces of you linger, teasing,

lost in my scribbles, your memory fading out of reach,

my thoughts ablaze, now and then,
catching a whiff of your fragrance,

wafting through alleyways of nostalgia,
your hand in mine on our pristine beach.



Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Reflections of Love

To live is to Learn. To learn is to grow up. But at our elderly Age that doesn't mean much.... AAAhhh... The choices and freedoms that age does bring... They open the world of childhood again. This childhood is filled with fantasy and such… Including Dragons, and Trolls alive to the touch. I wish, I wish, you could see them with me. We could laugh at their antics, together you see. To live is to Learn. To learn is to grow up. But as my body grows old, my mind’s still young. My husband and I are like the two parts of the moon. He comes from the light side to pull me there, too. His reflections of love keep me there, each day. To live is to Learn. To learn is to grow up. But never stop smiling, along the way. It’s your reflection of love that’s given to the world, each day. It makes everything brighter, and everything OK. To live is to Learn. To learn is to grow up. To learn is to find how to give your own reflections of love.
For contest: Reflections of Love

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2013

Details | Blank verse | |

Winter Depression

Bearable winter 
Blanket covered cold
Attacked by white Gas   of
Fallen Snow
 
But unbearable silent
Cripples into the home
Like a snake
To live with loneliness

Get Scattered past
Comes like a shooting star
Burning and blasting 
As a thunder bolt 
To the vulnerable heart

Like a novel keeps turning pages
Last chapters of the age
Tries to be active
Like a butterfly
While the birds are vanishing
Letting to the cold

Heater in the home
Makes warm the room
Cooks once in a way
Finding the present to share it
At the evening table

Cold darken lumpish light
Turns to here and there
Trying to realize 
The nature of life

 A sigh of pain 
Or a sigh of relief
Unconsciously comes
Likewise something missed
In the life of four seasons

Udaya R. Tennakoon





Copyright © Udaya R. Tennakoon | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

Retirement Time

“a little time to give... a little time to live, time always means so much” Before I knew it, I could retire, everyone said it would be so great, Having nursed for 37 years I got full pension so I took the bait. The first few weeks I slept in and did things I never had time to do, Then I found those things got boring, the time no longer flew. First I did the self-help thing, got into exercise and joined a Gym, Started a new diet, lost 65 pounds, boy I actually looked slim. Got a new hair cut and colour, went out and bought new clothes, Thought I’d become a better human being, but then who knows. Signed up for a watercolour class to improve how I painted, This transformation somehow made me feel somewhat tainted. I expanded my horizon with broadway shows and art displays, Yet my retired life felt empty, I seemed to be wasting my days. So I sat down and thought about what it is that I truly love, What fulfills my soul - I had to give my brain a little shove. Returning to basics, at the bedside is where I want to be, I decided to volunteer at a hospice, palliative care is for me. Supporting dying people and their family, to be caring is all I want, Listening to their struggles and life’s stories always continues to haunt. Working at Day Hospice we provide support for the respite stay, In addition I visit patients at home, so the caregiver can get away. The touch of a hand, the warmth of a hug is so very little to give, These people have limited time, only a few days or hours to live. Often unsettled before the person dies, they need to tie up loose ends, So I do whatever is required, for the person who wants to make amends. If I can make a person’s last moments, ones that are filled with peace, Comforting the family, sitting quietly as the person’s last breaths cease. My life will not be wasted and I no longer have the urge to read MacBeth, My retirement and work at hospice allows me to love my patients to death. Written by Lee Ramage August 30, 2011 For A Rambling Poet’s contest “A Poem- Please” Placement- 4th

Copyright © Lee Ramage | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse | |

NO FAREWELL

No farewell
Crossing boundaries all
On and off the ground 
Testimony of breaking records
 In domains many as well
For whom responsibility 
And not simply duty was but God
Scaling heights many
Turning living legend
Master though with dream and
Later achievements massive.
Born with a promise to run
And lead others to run after-
Friends or foes.
Soft and cool
Tender but bold
With passive resistance 
Sans complain and no pride 
Crowned but with no crown
In hearts all adorned 
For years long and ages to come
With humility all
Confidence and pride of nationals all
And respect commanding from opponents too,
Saying good bye to self, 
The first ever love
Who I think had considered
“Sarbadharman parityajya”
To achieve Nirvana
And turning God 
By complete merger in 
Cricket-God’s call
“mamekam saranam braja.”

Copyright © GOBINDA SAHOO | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme | |

A Lovers Day Away

These two mature lovers together
been married for many a day
now both retired from employment
can enjoy time together come what may

So they look forward to days away
using the free bus pass to get about
after checking the weather and the route
they plan their day then get out

They love to enjoy the countryside
seeing it's beauty spread so wide
walking in the grass so green
marching out in equal stride

Lovers they are in fullest measure
it's grown so much in years gone by
looking at each other marks a smile
that could only be this gal and guy

They travel all across the land
north, south, east and west
hoping to do this forever more
hand in hand so much blessed

Copyright © Gordon McConnell | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

ECHOES OF THE HEART

The distant past
whishpers across
the lonelly valleys echo 
with fear and distrust
It captures the heart
And takes it to a ride
Their echoes sre heard
In that distant past
The valleys listen
And bow down in honour
Their red tears
Afraid of wiping them
Reality hidden far away
Far away in the distant past
In heart muscles they align 
Just above reality
When the echoes open their heart
We get dismayed 
Lonesome bewilder our hearts
The hearts that soon crumble
They soon meet with the ancestors
Who in a rude shock wonder
How soon and young we join them
The echoes remain still
Untill the valleys 
Stop whispering
but our hearts are a battlefield
Where emotions fight
the fight of unending battles
 untill soon we depart

Copyright © john ngugi | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

Miracle on 44th Street

Lyrical On 44th Street
 

The argument started at the table
 
He was too soft,
 too timid to quote Gable
 
She said ,"Your dreams aren't keeping the lights on.
 
If I see you writing again, your son and I will be gone."
 
 
 
 
He said, "I been writing this book for ten years.
 
 I  got a letter from the mayor. I won a certificate."
 
She said, "It's just paper. We can't eat it. It aint worth shit!
 
   For six years you haven't been a father at all.
 
You got a son who can't even catch a damn ball.
 
You're worth a nickel as a husband.
 
As a father, not even a dime.
 
Where's a boy going in this world
 
Writing stories and rhymes?"
 
   She tossed his unfinished poems on the kitchen floor
 
His bound manuscripts out the back door.
 
She said, "Horace, I'm warning you.
 
Get this work out the trash
 
You'll find a wedding ring in there too."
 
   For three days those dreams festered in that trash
 
Covered with Pasta, cooking oil, Marinara sauce
 
Everything he had ever written was lost.
 
   
 He watched the Sunny Hills Sanitation Company
 
Turn down 34th street and make a left at the corner.
 
One last time he tried to warn her.
 
He could barely hide his tears with his hands.
 
She said, "Now you can grow up and be a man."
 
  Then that truck turned left on 35th street
 
Then it turned right
 
And just like those dreams, it disappeared from sight
 
   
     Twenty years later
 
He sat in the Sunny Hills Convalescent home
 
Sick, lonely, old and alone
 
He couldn't even hold a pen
 
Or dial numbers on a phone
 
    He had forgotten nearly every simile
 
Every rhyme and every metaphor.
 
And every few weeks the Reaper
 
Carried one of his friends out that door.
 
   And though he couldn't remember
 
 His favorite color or baseball team
 
The one thing he couldn't forget
 
Were those lyrical dreams.
 
  
In the dining room of the hospital he had a guest.
 
It took two nurses to get the feeble man dressed.
 
A nurse said, Mr. Horace, this is your son.
 
Twice he had to be reminded that he had one.
 
He tried to reply, but his words failed.
 
  The young man said, "Dad, I have a writing degree.
 
I graduated with honors, from Yale.
 
 
 
But what the old man didn't know
 
Happened late in the night
 
Twenty years ago.
 
A young child
 
Went into that garbage can
 
Sorted through the pasta, salad, and uneaten bones.
 
And made those lyrical dreams his own.
 
And now those dreams live on.
 
                                                     -Michael Ellis

Copyright © Poet M.e. | Year Posted 2016