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Age Retirement Poems | Age Poems About Retirement

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

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Details | Free verse | |


Strolling around town 
At prohibited time 
Ignoring the church bell sounds
While I see people hurrying 
Down the sidewalk
On their way to work 

Think maybe I'll find 
Pen and paper
And have a coffee somewhere 

Or maybe not

Copyright © Steinar Gismeroy Olafsen

Details | Free verse | |

Iam Not Afraid Of Middle Age

I am not afraid of middle age                                                                                                                    Let the inquisition of cunning smiles begin                                                                                    My ambition is not conclusive yet                                                                                                                       My passion is not devoured by deliberation in the night                                                                                  For I know that I am the profit margin of my dreams                                                                                                                  And that my vices are as real as my virtues are strong                                                                 No, I am not afraid of middle age                                                                                                      For I have only just begun to rediscover this miracle                                                                     That I am

Copyright © Michael Ainsley

Details | Verse | |

Old Age

In my youth, I am sure I was slim, a figure both modest and trim; but now I am old, I'm frequently told my features are wrinkled and grim. As a girl, I was agile and quick, my dancing was stylish and slick; but sadly it’s gone, I just hobble on now helped with the aid of a stick. I attracted young boys by the score, un-limited lovers, galore. No more sex appeal, instead they all reel and claim I'm a dowdy old bore. In my prime, I would argue, roughshod, Demosthenes then was my god. But now I just drone, I mumble and groan and gripe like a grumpy old sod. All day I just look at the walls; the clock on the mantelpiece crawls. But is that a knock, a turn of the lock? I do hope that somebody calls. ~ For Black Eyed Susan's 'Aging' Competition.

Copyright © Charles Clive

Details | Rhyme | |

An Advantage of Old Age

An Advantage of Old Age

By Elton Camp

When you’re in the prime of life
Working to support child and wife

Others’ opinions are a valid concern
So, your faults don’t let them learn

Because you’ve got years to work
You mustn’t be known as a jerk

When you become fiscally secure
Caring what others think it’ll cure

It becomes an enormous relief
When people can’t cause grief

Your view you can freely express
And nobody else can suppress 

If anyone says, “How do you dare!”
The response is, “What do I care!”

And even angrily you can shout it
There’s naught they can do about it

Copyright © Elton Camp

Details | Rhyme | |

Queen Of The Rails

The engine: Long and black
And sleek as she could be
She shook the earth in her approach
As her heraldry.

An atmosphere of steam and smoke
Expanding in her wake
The Queen-of-the-Rails speeds on
An arrival soon to make.

Massive is her presence
Enormity her design
Power is her excess
This Queen is so refined

Once she ruled with majesty
When o’er the rails she flew
But … now, this one last time,
The railway bids: “Adieu”.

Slowly when she comes to stop
We see she’s thoroughbred
When water, steel and hard, black coal
Within her there are wed.

Her regal-ness resplendent
In fittings’ shining bright
Commanding our respect
O’er the rails of her last flight.

Now sitting at the siding
She’s puffing rhythmic breath
The museum’s destination
Of her life commits its’ theft.

Photographs will mimic
Her image of today
But missing from those photos:
Glories of Yesterday

When o’er the steel she thundered
Demanding from all who saw
Respect for Her grand power
Which held them all in awe.

But Glory, she found, was fleeting
When “progress” came to call
Her future then was set in stone
In the writing on the wall.

Now we hear the brake release …
Her throttle then is moved …
She inches down the shiny track
Where the land with steel is grooved

Then as she gains her speed
And whistles out her “yell”
An announcement for all to hear:
“I know I’ve served you well!”

She’s journeyed through the ages
And a boy – an old man now -
Watches as she fades away -
He waves, then shouts out: “Ciao!”

But in his mind is yesteryear
With his dog there by his side
Watching near the railroad tracks
Where the Queen-of-the-Rails did ride.

And long from now whenever
He says: “Remember when …”
In those times of reverie,
She’ll come alive … again.

Copyright © Jack Clark

Details | Narrative | |

Crap, Poop, And All That Stuff

Hard to believe I'm slowing down Never thought this day would ever come Merrily cruising along Oblivious to all the small changes Suddenly I'm forgetting things Or how to do something That I've been doing by rote For too many years to count... I'm scared! My mind goes wild thinking Of what the future has in store for me! When I was younger The thought rarely occurred to me Almost as if that final day Was forever away... then WHAM! It hit me like a ton of bricks Started wondering, will it be tomorrow Next week... next month Don't usually dwell on it But can no longer ignore it Sadly, no one escapes Even the most mighty and powerful Will finally succumb CRAP! POOP! And all that stuff! © Jack Ellison 2014

Copyright © Jack Ellison

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

Details | Narrative | |

Aged Decisions

“Birth day” is the actual day one exits from the womb, (thereafter, “birthday”, is but a colloquialism for the anniversary of that birth).  Well … today is mine.  I’m finally old enough to drive … (times 4.56!).  Now, I’m old enough to vote … (times 3.476!).  One of my sons, too, this month, will become a half-century old … which makes me realize: I’m older’n dirt!

It is truly amazing:  Once you reach this age, it really, truly is incomprehensible that so many years have passed since taking that first breath – because our minds don’t allow us to think we’re “aged”!  Our thoughts tell us we can still lift that couch … or a 100 lb. sack of seed … or a box of twenty books.  But … the actual attempt proves our minds still have their roots in the concrete of yesteryear, while our bodies  are entrenched in the reality of … today, (that’s easily confirmed by a quick glance in a mirror!)   Contrary to popular belief … we are NOT as “young as we feel” … and to defy reality by allowing our minds to trump our body’s limitations, when it comes to physical exertion, is courting a hospital stay – or worse.

For those of us whose physical attributes have waned, we have great difficulty in accepting the fact that we now are relegated to the task of “watching”, not “doing”.  That’s the final hurdle we, of necessity, must overcome before we can truly accept … aging.  Our children, whom we used to tell and guide in what they could/should do, and when … have now matured.  We’ve taught them as best we could, and it is now their turn to drive the carriage – and, if we’re lucky, and don’t try to “boss” them, we may be asked to become passengers.

There comes a time when our day in the sun becomes a rocking chair in the twilight.  We need to prepare ourselves to recognize that change of circumstance and situation.  

It’ll be difficult for some of us … because WE’VE always been the one “in charge”.  If we are to survive with our dignity intact and retain relationships with those we love … we have to find a way to hand over the reins – and MEAN it – to the next generation which we ourselves have spawned.

Our remaining decisions will be:  Whether or not to re-bait that fishing hook … or what channel to watch … any decision more meaningful will need to be made by … our kids.

Copyright © Jack Clark

Details | Rhyme | |

Double Vision

When I look into the mirror
What on earth do my eyes see
I can see an old man staring
At a young man that is me

How I wish that this reflection
Was not so truthful and so bold
In my mind I still play marbles
But my reflection says I’m old

Where have those busy years gone
That consisted of my life
Seems like only yesterday dear
When you first became my wife

Quickly now the evening shadow
Has fallen over youthful face
I surrender to my plight now
And grow older with some grace

Copyright © Robert Andrew Lyle

Details | Alliteration | |

No Longer Fit for Work

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

Details | Free verse | |

Retirement From Poetrysoup

I hereby retire from this website, poetrysoup.
Thank you so much for reading my poems through
the years, and the awesome comments. I have fulfilled
my obligations to myself, I hope you continue to read these.
I have met a friend who writes awesome poetry on Facebook.
I will leave you with his, and my links.
Thank You,
and have a good day
be someone and make the most of it.
-Bj Fard

Copyright © Bj Fard

Details | Free verse | |


                                  OLD FOLK AT THE SEASIDE
                                     Old folks at the seaside
                                        a daytrip from hell
                           scarves and coats tightly harnessed
                                  Splattered with Bird mess
                              hands  Gnarled and now empty
                                  Food bearing easy targets 
                                     cumbersome and slow
                            They shuffle,...the piers and jetties
                              attacked at leisure  for being old 
                      and being slow....attacked , remorselessly 
                        By flying rats , seagull rats...pigeon rats
                                  hungry for old folksPlunder
                           old folk who shuffle in wrapped coats 
                                 Heavy against the sea breeze
                       wearing scarves , with pigeon mess badges
                                  and Seagull mess rosettes
                                       Shufflingly besieged.....
                                  With tears in their old eyes
                                and regrets In their sad gaits

                           And memories of times ...less harsh..


Copyright © Ian Guyler

Details | Rhyme | |

What does Maisie smile about

What Does Maisie Smile About?

(or A Tale of 3 Ladders)

“I wonder what Maisie smiles about, 
when she stares out of her window?”asks Jane, 
the new carer at St. Mary's, is curious,
about the aged figure watching the rain

Maisie is deep in her thoughts today,
“Maisie, Maisie”, her Grandpa cries,
“these ripe apples won't pick themselves you know!”
and up the long ladder her young legs rise                                 (1st ladder)

Autumn, in the golden orchard of yesteryear,
the warm setting sun, the birds and the bees,
the grown ups, all so merry with chatter,
Maisie and friends, all playing at ease

Such happy days of Autumn sun,
of foraged blackberries and apple cake,
of sweet plum puddings and then,
apple with cheddar  in the same bake

The adults, merry now, and all a dance,
the tree house ladder calls the young throng,                           (2nd ladder)
the boys scatter 'jacks', the girls make 'cat's cradle',
then all descend to skip in time to song

This is what I reminisce about,
and my time is far from past, you see,
I hear them, calling me, up that final ladder, 
“Maisie, your young legs will soon be free!”

Not long now, as I grow so very tired,
I will shed my 'costume' of aged joints so sore,
and return again to the young girl that I really am,
and sprint up those ladder rungs once more!                            (3rd ladder)

Mrs Cheryl Darby 2015

Copyright © Cheryl Darby

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Second Opinions

By Curtis Johnson

It seemed so clear and plain to me that those urges for repetitive behaviors and tendencies were hard to tame.

It seemed that there simply was no recourse from a life locked in “drive” on a one way street that always ended up the same.

Like a loaded locomotive headed across the plains, providing no great views of mountains or rivers; there too was a longing inside of me to stop and get off  this fast train.

As our lives approach the setting of the sun, and the evening star appears, it seems appropriate to take a little more time to contemplate, meditate, and rearrange.

I thinks perhaps it’s true that there is sometimes less to be gained from vain repetition; and sometimes, I think  that second opinions are required to relieve         more pain.

Copyright © curtis johnson