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Sad Retirement Poems | Sad Poems About Retirement

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

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Details | Free verse | |

Dementia

He was always so happy
strong and bold.
He'd give you the shirt off of his back.
Tough.
Independent.
He had a rough life
growing up through the depression,
but like he always does,
he got through it.
He has two boys, of whom he is so proud.
Moved from Regina, to Victoria.
He had the best life anyone his age could have wanted.
But ever since his wife died, 
he has not been the same.
Sad
Lonely
Empty.
But like he has always done,
he got through it.
Mind slipping, 
just a little forgetful.
That's how it always starts out...
But like always, he powered through it, 
until now...
He is not the same person that I used to know.
He been sentenced to the prison in his own mind.
Possessed by the thoughts of his dogs ashes.
He likes to play the blame game,
but we know he doesn't remember that it was him.
He wakes up in the night
shaking with pain, 
tears streaming down his face.
There is nothing we can do,
Oh well...
Two more tylenol.
Hold on to hope
for as long as you can,
It's only a matter of time now.
He gets vocal, a very loud tone.
He'll block you in your room
and make false accusations
But we know that it's the pain induced monster in him.
Tick tock, tick tock...
You can't handle the stress anymore
you have to leave.
Just hope for the best, 
maybe it will get better.
Surprise, it doesn't.
Your denial is foolish, everyone knows 
what happens next.
Sedation
Medication
Anger
Hurt
All results of
dementia


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
!!


Details | Questionku | |

Retirement of my beef

Horse who won in Yorkshire
Last year how come
To be a  beef in my menu  this year


Details | Free verse | |

One Man's Retirement

In Oxford we watched for three months
the old man, his leg in plaster,
lean against the wall outside the building
where the Simon people cared for him.

He always gave a friendly greeting,
with his Irish accent, putting some life
back into our tired bodies,
as we rushed by on our way to work.

His younger mates preferred
the benches further down the street,
where they drank the bottle of cider,
hidden away from the night before.

Later in the day, senile old ladies
gathered on benches and listened
to the lilting of his Irish brogue.


Details | Couplet | |

Numbed And Exhausted

Just like closing a book without reading a page,
Or as to a child who is tired of being a kid;
Like a preacher that won’t stay in a pulpit so long
Or to a sprinter who leaves from the running throng.

No time for laughter or for returning a grin
Or consoling oneself for the pain deep within;
No self-pity or pride to be felt by the heart
Yet reserved and reluctant for another start.

Sleep is precious and so desired by the mind
Having no urge for a smoke or for the spirit of wine;
No more is the longing for a kiss or embrace
When the will of a man only needs its own space.

Like a rooster of the dawn that would be cackling no more
As the dew that would dry without wetting at all.
Or a poet who used to spend some long sleepless nights
For the mind is now stalled with nothing to write.

No more rhyming lines or a tune for a song
Though the art for the craft is still able and strong;
But to rest and to rest is what the soul ever wanted
For the spirit that is numbed and so exhausted.

Date & Time of Writing
November 19, 2011
1:32pm – 2:05pm

I had a sleepless night and feeling the pain within my heart up to the time of this writing. I am simply getting impatient of my own patience. I feel that, for such, I become vulnerable to exploitations and blatant lies. Albeit, I still strive to be fair by keeping the pain within myself and hoping that at the end of this particular writing the pain I have inside would be just a driving force of coming up another piece of a candid poem.


Details | Bio | |

Solitude: To Yoda, An Ode

Green bark a prism creates,
Feel the pull of earth, you must.

Rotates, a slime of endless hates,
Can hold me not, this world’s crust.

Friendship’s ties, isolation Deflates,
Succumbs, my spaceship, to bitter rust.

Mist, my soul forever permeates,
Lift-off, booms the rocket’s thrust.

My spirit when light returns, elates,
Swamps swell, swallowed hope’s swirling dust.

Trapped, I am, until student from fate
Arrives to learn; Cloud City or bust.


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


Details | Free verse | |

MAGICless

It's early November '91, 
and I quite can't remember, 
ever, 
feeling this humbled, seeing
Magic stumble, 
off his shiny crown, 
and the little boy
Who once glared at 32, 
fixated by a dribbling
Rhythm,        so compulsive, 

    so majestic, 

so unattainable, 
by his own standards, 
that he had no choice, 
but to glare, 

It's different now, 
A leather cacophony, 
dribbling dissonance, 
laymen lay-ups, 
Leading us to believe
it was a mere illusion, 
but I believed in Magic.

(1/22/92)


Details | Free verse | |

One Man's Retirement

In Oxford we watched for three months
the old man, his leg in plaster,
lean against the wall outside the building
where the Simon people cared for him.

He always gave a friendly greeting,
with his Irish accent, putting some life
back into our tired bodies,
as we rushed by on our way to work.

His younger mates preferred
the benches further down the street,
where they drank the bottle of cider,
hidden away from the night before.

Later in the day, senile old ladies
gathered on benches and listened
to the lilting of his Irish brogue.


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