leaves in the trees
an old man sitting
on a bench
and thinks of his youth
sitting on a bench
looking into his iPhone
simulates the falling
red yellowing leaves
Copyright © RUDOLPH RINALDI | Year Posted 2014
My cousin shared her wishes and dreams,
On our star gazing night, she whispered them so sweet
As a shooting star glided down from the sky,
She said, I wish ….. I wish…. all I wish are these tonight
Someday, I will marry a smart, rich and handsome guy
And have a grandiose banquet on my nuptial rite
We’ll be dancing like a lovely prince and princess ,
With all my wedding sponsors on their best suits and dresses
All in pink ,that’s the motif I will surely request.
She kept into her dreams as several years passed by,
Still searching for her prince charming who’s hard to find
Unconsciously going beyond the age to give birth to a child,
In a hurry at age of seventy, she took a rich ninety years old guy.
The wedding was held after a day or two,
The guy seated on his wheelchair with rheumatism on his toe
She headed slowly at the alter to accept his shaking hands,
Two nurses followed, so with sponsors dressed up in printed brown.
The highlight of the wedding rite started at once,
They held tightly with a nebulizers on the other hands,
But the words of oath, they took time to pronounce
False teeth were both misplaced and nowhere to be found.
Reception followed grandiosely in the guy’s mansion,
I saw many old men and women still eager to dance on the floor,
With hunched back, shaking knees, they twisted rock and roll
Then, sweet music played and my cousin danced with her groom.
But, we all wondered how did he stand alone?
He’s so heavy , I knew my cousin couldn’t help him at all,
With our great surprise, his nurse was at his side like his crutch
Everyone thought , he’s really a smart guy! Was he not?
Then, everyone followed them so happily on the spacious hall,
And in trio, they held each other so tight and moved like a fool.
Written: Sept. 15, 2012
Contest: My Cousin's Wedding (funny poem)
Contest Judged: 9/30/2012
Poet Sponsor: Joann Grisetti
Copyright © Galeo DS | Year Posted 2012
Many years ago, when we were all young,
We really thought life, would be so much fun.
While playing dress-up, trying on mom’s stuff,
Putting on make-up, we found to be tough.
Then came our schooling, and boy things would change,
“Those aren’t our parents”, when they acted strange.
Sometimes they were hip, but old-fashioned too,
That’s something I swore, I would never do.
Wishing you were older, adults had it made,
They would do nothing, yet still would be paid.
That is how little, we all had known,
We surely found out, once we were grown.
Loving the twenties, we’d go out with friends,
When we went shopping, we followed the trends.
Doing what we wanted, and staying out late,
It didn’t matter, what time we all ate.
Then came the thirties, and most of us wed,
Watch what you wish for, my parents had said.
We had to work hard, many bills to pay,
I guess they were right, what more can I say?
Raising your children, was hardest of all,
Needing some advice, your parent’s you’d call.
It seemed so easy, they needed no rest,
So now it’s your turn, you learned from the best.
The forties arrived, that was a shocker,
We’d spend lots of time, just at the doctor.
Back aches and headaches, so tired you’d be,
Trying not to cough, or else you would pee.
The fifties would come, and your grandkids too,
Where were your glasses? You hadn’t a clue.
You searched here and there, and under the bed,
“Hey grandma” they laughed, “They’re right on your head”.
Here come the sixties, now let’s have some fun,
You are retired; your work is all done.
To dinner with friends, you dressed and you wait,
They never show up, you have the wrong date.
Now the seventies, with friends playing games,
If only you could, remember their names.
You try hard to hide, those under-eye bags,
Gravity happens, and everything sags.
Enjoy every day, and have a good laugh,
All the steps you took, led down a new path.
Live life as it comes, each year a new page,
One thing is for sure, everyone will age.
Copyright © Kelly Zakerski | Year Posted 2009
Deceptive Griselda is not so fair
She conceals her real age, will not declare
On the Net she croons love’s tunes
To make all the young men swoon
A fantasyland like hers is so rare
The secrets that she always locks within
Mysterious as the Shroud of Turin
‘Twould be easier to gauge
The much-debated shroud’s age
Than guess the date of photos she's seen in
Wherever she goes, she carries laptops
Sexy blog posts from nursing home rooftops
Delusional minds deceive
Some catch on, some still believe
But at 87; her figure’s flopped
Entry for Tracie's contest
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2010
crepitus announces itself annoyed
at my impudence as I climb the stairs
it speaks the language of stop, I don't
flatulence trumpets my presence
luckily no one is hear to breathe deep
another dead language of age
the sounds of decomposition make me smile
for even they can fill a blank page
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2014
I do not know?
INPUT FNAME = 'Yoni'
LNAME = 'Dvorkis';
Var Hidden_Meaning = "SAS code is not meant to be poetry you nut job";
Where Age >= 4;
Var Worldview = Parents_Worldview;
Var Facial_Expression = compress('Fear'||'Bewilderment'||'Jews believe in guilt');
Set Child (Drop= Innocence, Baby_Fat, Cheerful_Disposition);
Where Age >= 15 and BAC_Level >= .01;
Var Worldview = (Peer_Pressure * 100) + Favorite_Teacher_Worldview
Var Hidden_Meaning = "Where are you going with this?";
Set Teenager (Keep= Anger, Intelligence, Need_For_Material_Wealth, Hatred_Towards_Body
Var Job_That_Slowly_Kills_You = "Healthcare Data Analyst and SAS Programmer";
Var Worldview = (Company_Mission_Statement + Family_Is_Most_Important)
Where Age >= 21 and BAC_Level >= .15;
If Yearly_Salary >= 100,000 then
Self_Esteem = "Now I'm worth something!!";
Else if 50,000 <= Yearly_Salary < 100,000 then
Self_Esteem = "I guess I should count myself lucky...";
Else if Yearly_Salary < 50,000 then
Self_Esteem = ______;
Var Hidden_Meaning = "Jeez, you're really laying it on thick with the salary stuff";
Where Age >= 65 and Yearly_Salary = "Whatever's left of Social Security";
Var Cynical_Being =
(Why_Did_It_Have_To_End_Like_This * Years_Hiding_In_Plain_Sight )
Proc sort data = Old_Man out = Old_Man_On_Deathbed nodupkey;
Merge Old_Man_On_Deathbed (in = a) God (in = b);
If b and not a;
Copyright © Yoni Dvorkis | Year Posted 2009
Night sweats and crazy
Hot flashes and lazy
Mood swings and a body (?)
That looks pretty shoddy
Eating and bleeding and wanting to scream
These are a few of my Favorite Things
When your doctor
Says a shocker
Uterus is a lobster
I simply remember to pretend I'm filled with glee
I forget that my uterus is in atrophy
Copyright © Jennifer Young | Year Posted 2014
Old And Holding Aces
I am old, youth lost does so deeply hurt
no more whiskey drinking brawls,
now slow and tired, feeling older than dirt
I no longer chase the pretty gals at all.
I am old, bad knees and snow on my head
no more , wild nights out dancing,
watch late news, now fall asleep instead
gone forever are my days out prancing.
I am old, can see the doorway awaiting
slow stepping my way over there,
Love-life over, no more sweet mating
I now can only sadly look and stare.
I am old, just damn glad to have now made it!
Do I now, hold onto last two aces or do I trade it?
Robert J. Lindley. 08-21-2015
Note- Sonnet mixture of truth , humor and
a sad realty!
Poetic leeway employed in the line about -
"Love-life over, no more sweet mating"
As trust me, thankfully that is not problem at all.
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015
I am old. Old I am.
And frankly I don't give a damn.
I take bright pills for all my ills
And little rugrats call me gram.
Teeth are gone. Gone are they.
Can't chew my food the normal way.
I glue some in to fill my grin
I'm lucky if they stay all day!
I am vexed! Vexed am I!
And now I'm going to tell you why
I fall asleep in time to leap
And to the porcelain pony fly!
I am slow. Slow I am.
In stores I cause a traffic jam.
Joints go crack, can't bend my back
I failed my walker drive exam!
But say the word. The word just say.
And you and I can spend the day!
Let's eat prunes and sing some tunes
Then cuddle with my friend, Ben Gay!
Copyright © Cindi Rockwell | Year Posted 2016
Dancing all around
Frolicking through fields
Just like you!
Copyright © Smail Poems | Year Posted 2013
Wilma cried, “We are going too slow!”
But poor Flintstone could no faster go.
Not because of a flat.
No, for nothing like that.
It was just Fred had stubbed his big toe!
Written Nov. 14, 2014
For the Limerick Clean and Clever Contest of Roy Jerden
Yabba Dabba DOO!!!! And Boo Hoo Hoo!!!
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2014
It’s a mother-in-law’s right, her prerogative
To ‘drop in’ on her son almost any time,
But a mother-in-law should always be prepared
For almost anything she may find.
So, Mother Cready dropped in unannounced;
But as she approached her son’s front door,
Suddenly it opened. “Ta Da! Do you like my happy dress?”
His young wife stood there in her ‘all in all’…nothing more.
“Oh, my word!” Mother Cready exclaimed with surprise.
“Why are you naked? Are you insane?”
Just as surprised, the young wife pulled her inside.
“Please, Mother Cready…if you’ll just let me explain.
You see, when Mac has had a rough day,
When he’s been under a lot of stress,
Sometimes I meet him at the door
With a smile and a kiss in my happy dress.
It always relaxes him and makes him happy,
Then he makes me very happy too.
It works for Mac and me, Mother Cready;
Maybe it would work for you.”
“We’re too old for such.” scoffed Mother Cready.
“Perhaps if we were young like the two of you.”
But, on her way home, she decided
She was definitely going to try it too.
So, she bathed and put on some nice perfume,
Fixed her make-up and her hair.
She was thinking some very sexy thoughts,
But she had to hurry…no time to spare.
She heard her husband’s car in the driveway;
And as he approached their front door,
She threw it open. “Ta Da! Do you like my happy dress?"
She stood there in her ‘all in all’…nothing more.
She saw a little grimace cross his face,
But that was not the worst.
Then he said, “I appreciate your happy dress, my dear;
But maybe you should have ironed it first.”
ALTERNATE LAST VERSE
“Well…your ‘happy dress’ could use some ironing;
But my birthday suit could use some starch.”
He kissed her. “Bet you and I can work it out.”;
And off to bed they marched.
Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014
I do not know?
Homework oh' homework
All kids say it stinks,
They say they wont do it,
but that it would disappear once they blink,
They say who invented it;
and who brung it forth,
They say they wish teachers would stop giving it,
And all though I agree
Homework is a good thing,
It will help you, you'll see
It will help tomorrow, today,
and years later
It will help you be smarter
it'll help you participate
So don't say that you hate it
All though you clearly do, because
you know that you need it
Copyright © Mariam Traore | Year Posted 2014
When I was just a baby
Many years ago
I was so agile I could even suck my toe
Now I have trouble lifting up a cup
Oh how I hate growing up!.
When you'r a child everyone smiles at you
And say's ''awe, aren't you cute''
Bur now your an adult
Your as cute and popular
As an old worn out boot.
When your a kid
and lose a tooth
You put it under your pillow
And in the morning you find a quid
But now it's something you cannot do
Because you have to put your teeth into chew.
I suppose being an adult has it's advantages
You don't get ring worm nits and puppy fat
But why did I have to grow up
It wasn't in my plan
It just happened
And now I'm a man
Petwr Dome.copyright.2014. Aug.
Copyright © Peter Dome | Year Posted 2014
You send bolts through my skin
something I was never to
accomplish with you, when I
saw you it's like my heart sank
to my stomach and I was in
shock my body still my body
heavy felt like when I moved I
was about to fall to my knees
you make me want to get
inside my brain pick you up and
take you out pick you one by
one like a flower because I do
love you and love you not.
Copyright © brittney lopez | Year Posted 2013
Age 51 is often when one’s unable,
To buy the status quo, it’s old and needs mending.
New sports car, how youthful! Refuting the label,
Of premature old age, gray hair pending.
Girl friends need to be added to the stable,
Young women, their company lending,
Immortal aura when sharing their bar table.
What invokes “against aloneness”, or “befriending”?
You’ll find a word “antimonos” in Greek fable.
The element Antimony, #51, is alloy tending,
By emulating its properties, “Romeo” is enabled.
By experimenting with the valence one’s sending,
Reactions occur, some of which may be stable,
But it’s hard to tell if another is bonding or pretending,
Especially, to induce attraction, one increases spending.
Remember to study and use the Periodic Table,
It prolongs youth, the illusion of vitality never ending.
© Chaim Wilson
Copyright © Chaim Wilson | Year Posted 2014
First day of our life
The mother is ecstatic
Finally her pains and burdens are over
Ululations and congratulations are on
Could even be the next president
But father is in tears
Camouflaged as honest joy
Another big mouth to feed
Second day of our life
The priest is ecstatic
Finally another person in line for tithe
Could even be the next pope
But mother is in tears
Camouflaged as the touching by the word
Village thugs and whores praying for you
Another statistic of robbery without violence
Third day of our life
The teacher is ecstatic
Finally someone to be the Aristotle to their Plato
Could even be the next Einstein
But priest is in tears
Camouflaged as tears for absolution
Lawyers and politicians consecrating you
Another greedy scholar on the rise
Fourth day of our life
The couters are ecstatic
Finally we love being in love
Could even get married bells ringing
But teacher is in tears
Camouflaged as being proud of you
Another dumb romantic who never learns
Fifth day of our life
We are very ecstatic
Finally we made a new life
Could it be the need to sustain bliss human mediocrity?
But our sweethearts are in tears
Camouflaged as being happy for you
Another one escapes dying alone
Sixth day of our life
Grandchildren are ecstatic
Finally someone else full of laughter and ambition
Could it be their I-phone is the only new thing under the sun?
But we are in tears
Camouflaged as pain in our backs
Another generation who don’t know how short life is
The last day of my life
The better angels inside my head are mourning
Finally I am someone who lived in this world
Could it be because I will be forgotten?
But grandchild is happy
Camouflaged as tears for losing you
Just another man without legacy gone
Copyright © Moses Sichach | Year Posted 2015
Since the time I was wearing a bib,
I was wise to the guys. That’s no fib!
“Hey, Baby,” I’d say,
“Come on over and play.
You just meet me tonight in my crib!”
And while most kids were learning to poo,
I was thinking up poems by age two.
I could coo a sweet verse
With no need to rehearse
Saying things like, “I’m gaga for you.”
I was writing my lines by age three
And creating sublime poetry.
First boys and then men
I caught with my pen.
LADY Gaga of verse now: that’s me!
For Susan Burch's
Ridiculous Self Exaggerations Poetry Contest
And now for PD's anything Goes!!!
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2012
I WRITE MY NAME IN FULL
IT WOULD APPEAR
POMPOUS AND PRETENTIOUS
TO DO SO
FOR THEN WHEN YOUNG
MY NAME IN PRINT
RUDOLPH JON RINALDI
HAD THE SYMMETRY AND POWER
Of A NEW SHINNY AIRPLANE PROPELLER PROP
BUT THAT WAS THEN
WHEN I WAS YOUNG
AND NOW IN AGE
THE BEAUTY AND SOLIDITY
OF AN OLD ASS
Copyright © RUDOLPH RINALDI | Year Posted 2014
I was walking in the park last week,
when to me, a young boy did speak.
'Excuse me mister can you tell me,
where can I find a cookie tree?
I know that there are some in here,
and I've been told that they are near,
yes, before I was the age of three,
I knew all about the cookie tree!
I've never seen one yet, although,
they're definitely here, yes this I know,
as from a very young age they've told me so,
that cookie trees in this park grow.
So come on mister, tell me please,
where in this park are the cookie trees?
I have to find them before I'm old,
and they're definitely here, because I've been told.'
I answered him in the following way.
'Since I was young I've come to play,
and wander freely all around this park,
but your question leaves me in the dark.
Because, never once in all this time,
have I come across any sign,
to tell me that cookies grow on trees,
where did you get your info please? '
Straight away, the kid replied.
'Oh well, you're the first one that I've tried.
I didn't think I'd do it with ease,
you know, find the orchard of cookie trees.
So I'll carry on until I find,
someone who believes, and isn't blind,
yes a person who really, truly agrees,
with the fact that cookies grow on trees!
Copyright © Tom Higgins | Year Posted 2012
No more faxes, no more phones
No more “It’s too early” moans
No commuting, shouting, tooting
No more shirts & ties & suiting
No service station breaks and bites
No toilet queues and car park fights
No CRUISE control or heated seats
No glovebox filled with fuel receipts
No more hotel revolving doors
No concierge, no polished floors
No battered cases, weary faces
Sleepless nights in far-off places
No bacon fat, no butter pat
No “Why have I been charged for that?”
No checking out or checking in
Or moans about the room you’re in
No ‘silly hours’ airport dash
No feeling for your foreign cash
No passport checks, departure times,
No Coke machines that don’t take dimes
No drinks or pastes, no sprays or gel
Lens solution? - banned as well
No plastic meals or plastic smiles
To carry you across the miles
No luggage queues, no business shoes
No funny, foreign, TV news
No laws by which you must abide
No driving on the other side
No local customs, scraping, bowing
Baffling greetings and kowtowing
No horrid coffees, tepid teas
No pidgin English; ‘Thank you, please’
Meetings, musings, tariff choosings
Hushed asides, so oft confusing
Remembering their children’s names
Tax returns, expenses claims
You’ve toed the line your whole life through
But future plans are up to you
Bin the laptop, scrap the email
Make time for your favourite female
Copyright © Bill Lindsay | Year Posted 2015
when you get old
and can’t lift your arm
above your shoulder
because of arthritis
and if it stays up
for more than four hours
in a Nazi like salute
don’t call Dr. vonStout
lock your door
and don’t go out
Copyright © RUDOLPH RINALDI | Year Posted 2014
When I was young, I noticed
Many adults stopped aging at 39.
Had something to do with Jack Benny
And trying to hold back time.
Then I noticed something else.
They often spoke of retiring at 65,
And many of them seemed to hope
They might still be alive.
The difference came to 26,
A number I knew very well.
The number of letters in the alphabet
We use to print and write and spell.
Then it occurred to me,
For folks holding youth so dear,
Just add a letter to 39
Each and every year.
39A would be 40,
39Z would be 65.
After that, start letters over again
Or just be glad you’re still alive.
So, you see, it’s easy
To forever be 39.
You may fool yourself & others,
But you can’t fool Father Time.
Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014
I've always been a prankster; I just can't resist a joke.
I think I'll shake things up a bit, when in the old folks home.
They'll think they have a fairy when I hide all their false teeth.
No money left, just a note; a cactus they are neath.
Swap preparation H with Bengay; this will be such fun!
Muscles shrank up, butts on fire; Oh! How they will run!
Spike the soup, send invitations; my party please attend.
Bed pans on our heads and stripped down to Depends.
Don't fall asleep with eye glasses left upon your head.
I'll paint flames or angels on them. You'll think you woke up dead.
I'll grab my chest and moan and groan; they'll call a handsome Doc..
When he gives me mouth to mouth... MUAH... A double lip lock!
When they come to check my vitals; Ha! This one's truly grand.
I'll play possum then yell, BOO!! They'll faint right where they stand.
A go-cart motor on my Little Raskle; down the halls I'll speed.
Skid marks round the corners. The fastest nurses won't catch me.
They'll place a warning on my door for all the world to see:
"Enter at your own risk.".... They'll call me, Hell on Wheels... HEE! HEE! HEE!
Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2014
Age forty -one this month is a chill
For brother who’s not over the hill
So he won’t seem unfit
Got a total face lift
Now he’s looking like a roasted grill
Fictional dedication to my older brother
The Perfect Limerick Contest of Andrea Dietrich
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2014
Perhaps Peter Piper did not pick a peck of pickled peppers,
Perchance Peter purloined them.
Peter's pretext for pickled peppers puts people at ease,
Pickpocket's ploy personified.
Personalizing praise for Peter's pesky presumption,
People put Peter's penchant for peppers praiseworthy.
Perhaps, Peter pretended to pick the peck of pickled peppers,
People should portend where Peter put the peck he picked.
Peter passed plenty of peppers to people,
Personifying Peter and his peck.
Prided peppers purloined or in a pepper peck,
Peter put in his pants pockets.
Copyright © Dan Cwiak | Year Posted 2016
THIS IS HOW LIFE FEELS WHEN YOU GET TO BE MY AGE
I have a general philosophical precept
Life is in general a bowl of cherries except
When someone stabs me in the back who didn’t oughta
From a completely unexpected quarter
I mean it’s ok if some dude whom I don’t like or trust
Has a go at me and feels he must
But if my wife tells me I continually bug her with my fidgets
And then she runs off with a team of one-legged circus midgets
Or my kids sell their hand-bound volumes of my poems
To buy a ton of horse manure to mix with the garden loams
And even the cat turns down my offer of warm milk
To go next door and sleep on sheets of silk
Or if a poetry contest excludes me simply because my name
Is unacceptable, maybe because I am black, or lacking in fame,
Or because I’m Methodist, and gay, and Republican, and from East Lansing,
Then I say to myself, well here’s the thing:
If, along with my poem entry, I’ve slipped in fifty bucks,
Well then how can I be excluded? I mean shucks -
Rules is rules but when I’ve already paid to be in the winners’ list
I feel I have the right, and I just gotta insist,
Cos midgets and fidgets don’t amount to squat
And sheets of silk or loads of horse manure is a lot
But my name’s my pride and joy and I am proud to add it
(But I fear to do it again in this contest or I’ve had it),
So in this contest I will remain anonymous
Though I guess the details writ here are just about synonymous
With a name I do not dare speak - at risk of exclusion
But I’m pretty sure this extra fifty bucks will lessen the confusion.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Written - with great affection - for
Nancy Jones's Contest "This is how life feels when you get to be my age..."
Copyright © Sidney Beck | Year Posted 2012
Kids are funny poets in disguise
Needing, wanting, blessing every day
From Sticks and stones
To climbing trees
Everywhere I go kids are running
Leaping out, playing hopscotch
Using high voltage of imagination
From bubble gum
To singing songs
Chasing frogs, children are so much fun
Bouncing balls and jump rope
Having the time of life every day.
From short box of sand,
To hand shadows on the wall,
Painting and decorating-
-an everlasting moment
A gleeful smile on every face
Kids are funny poets in disguise
Touching, feeling, sharing every day
From dreaming of candy
To wanting hugs
Playing outside in the rain,
Jumping in puddles of mud
Easy to satisfy with love
From merry go rounds
To down the slide
A born poet in disguise
Navigating the world,
through the best form of imaginary
From rough and tough
To - sharp and sweet
Dirty little fingers
Flying kites and frisbees
Kids are funny poets in disguise
Feeling, crying, yelling their hearts out
To having the flu
Scared, on their first day of school
Scraping knees - kisses, please
Sometimes kids feel more than grown ups do
Kids are funny poets in disguise
Giving life the perfect meaning
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010
My computer has dementia
It keep asking me for
I keep telling it--
it has forgotten it
Copyright © RUDOLPH RINALDI | Year Posted 2015
Let’s go to bed my darling girl,
He grabbed her by the hand and they did a quick twirl.
I fancy you right now so come with me,
His love was growing, that she could see.
Come my sweet one, let’s go and make love
I am ready for you now, my sweet turtle dove.
Wait my darling, just wait a little while
I need time to get ready, you know my style.
You go up and I will follow you
And then you know what we can do.
He ran excited up the stairs,
It was his birthday in an hour, and he wanted to share.
His lust was growing, his legs were pumping
She followed him, her heart loudly thumping.
Ready for a night of passion, his cheeks a faint colour of rouge
And a mound under the quilt, he thought was really quite huge.
She reached out, to climb over him
And watched as his smile turned to a grin.
Oh no you stop there, thats where I want you
This is what I have planned for us to do.
His eyes rolled backwards, as she thought in his ecstasy
But his heart had given out, that much she could see.
Never mind he died while he was having such fun
It is a shame, she said - he was only just 91.
Die a "Fun "death
Copyright © Mandy Tams The Golden Girl | Year Posted 2011