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Age Romance Poems | Age Poems About Romance

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

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Details | Verse | |

Romance Again


A swimming cloud became the mist;
our morning peace stirred inner light.
Before the sun rose ending night,
our honesty lit passion’s flight.   

We met sea crests as morning kissed
a gently rolling shore of gulls,
white-wings seeking sea’s tranquil lull
as dawn’s light winked on distant hulls.

Soft sands of gold, our walks I’d missed.
To cradle love at break of day,
we once began each day this way,
before our golden years turned gray. 

Now, hands entwined, we reminisce.
Our laughter breaks the silent dawn.
Fond memories I thought long gone,
come flooding back to carry on.

I want for nothing more than this - 
our worlds collide, a second chance. 
With children grown, a new romance,  
upon our beach, rekindled dance.

A swimming cloud became the mist;
we met sea crests as morning kissed
soft sands of gold; our walks, I'd missed.
Now hands entwined, we reminisce.
I want for nothing more than this.
    


Details | Rhyme | |

The Happy Dress

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.


Details | I do not know? | |

The Master Mind of Numbers

Ever since I have stepped into modernization, I have been pinched with values of the ancestors,
I cannot believe that the inside does not reflect the outside anymore,
When one says he or she has changed and become open minded, 
Is it only to make one feel temporarily pleased or is just to enjoy hurting a person,
Why has age become a factor or an excuse to start a new problem?

Every time a heart skips a beat, the warm sensation takes place, a friendly chat takes place,
Numbers begin to swirl around. The intellectual chat, attraction of like minds,
Or even the rebellious differences stand in a corner against numbers.
Time flies and so does one progress with various experiences. 
Does it matter if you are too old or young to be with someone?

Who gets to judge about numbers?
Nothing occurs very young but takes place during adulthood with mature thinking. 
How should one deal when age becomes a problem to a new relationship?
More or less, does anyone have the right to judge if one is not married at a certain age.
With observation, reading various articles, numbers have created a nuisance in the mind of shallow thinkers in many societies.

When all the feelings are right, then why do numbers go wrong?
Doesn’t sensibility, love, responsibility or even security count or is it overshadowed with age.
Still one may try to let go and filter some thoughts, but how does one filter attraction and passion.
Years have passed by and still the jackpot of excuses concerning numbers have polluted various communities. A spark of hope is still there when faith and true love will attain blessings from the higher self and well-wishers always.


Details | Romanticism | |

Can you feel me

Feel me standing there
on the draw bridge
that stands stubburn and erect
over the rushing waters blown by the wind
back and forth.
I listened to the crows
posted on gargoils designed
of eightenth century Gothic architecture
singing their death songs,
when the sun is setting in the far.

The voices of women passing
startle me with a feeling of sorrow
I can't breathe, I am dying.
Feel me, can you feel me rot away?
Slowly but surely rot away
as time passes with ease,
and taxi cabs take smiling, intoxicated faces
to wayward cafes, oh how they screech to a halting stop
and wave to me to get in.

"No thank you, I'd rather walk." I say to the smiling faces
highly intoxicated with the thought of the birds and the bees
rattling around in their empty minds.
Then they drive off, into the city lights and turn a darkened corner.
I look at the rushing water
and feel myself rot away
slowly but surely rot away.

Can you feel me?
Can you hear me?
Can you see me?
Feel my heart thump with slow paces
that manage to keep up with fast melodies.
Of songs that play in your mind
only the ones that make you sigh
and think those one days in Spring time
as you walked over the draw bridge
and paid no mind to the water underneth.
I hear no more talk of you and me, I hear no more talk
of the good old times we all shared.
Time has passed, as I take my last breathe
and hold my chest and shead a tear.
Feel me, can you?
If you can, put your hand to my weak heart 
and feel it thump away with every second wasted
on useless items.
Now, see me a man of one time greatness
reflect his life with a reflection in the water below.
How I sigh and cry and breath heavely,
as I feel myself rot away.

The voices of woman pass me by.
Tomorrow is a new day,
for the smiling faces in taxi cabs will go home
and soak their raging hangovers with cool, wet rags.
As I still stand on the draw bridge singing with the crows,
feeling myself rot away.

Can you feel me without you, rotting away?
I surely can feel myself rot.
Such a heavy word, "rot"
So vulgare, yet a great description of me,
without you.

I pull out a shawl you once wore and I kiss it.
As the wind gusts and the sun rises and my shadow
comes to meet me, the wind shall take my last memory
of you away.
And I shall weep no more.
Then what will I do? Shall I walk the streets
and think of you.
Yes you, still rambling all throughout my head
like a lose screw.
Can you feel me? Feel me rot away
feel me think about you, and all your works.
Can you feel me?


Details | Free verse | |

Watching Us Age

I'm watching you age
into wiser smiles, measured steps.
(Your lines look beautiful)

Gravity of life reshaped
our foolish expenses of energy
(Oh, the hurrying we did together)

wasted vanity of emotions.
I love our becoming...
more vast of vivid moments

(Our expanding normal bits)
gnarled with experiences.


Details | Romanticism | |

Love needs Two Hearts

Love cannot bloom,
love cannot go on,
love cannot persue it dreams,
love cannot be what it is meant to be,
love cannot be where it is supposed to be,
if love doesn't have two hearts.

Love needs two hearts to be true,
Like water to a dried rose
makes it bloom in spring weather
with such glory and beauty.
Love cannot be true if one heart
doesn't love the other.
Care, trust, honesty and loyalty
in love it has no boundaries,
it has no color, it has no age,
like a fine wine or an aged whiskey
it grows better with time.
But love cannot fullfill without the other half.

If a woman loves man,
let her love him,
if you love me,
than love me, but if my heart is gone
and cannot be found in such relation with you
then I must halt, till my heart comes around.
If it never does show with the first light of morning,
then it wasn't meant to be with thee.
Come now, do not shed a tear for me,
a simple heathin, who cries havoc
when something doesn't go his way.
Do not cry, do not shed your one of a kind tears
for a souless man, for a heartless man like I,
but do not blame me,
if my heart cannot be found.

Love needs two hearts,
not one or the other can survive
without each other.
Love is patient, love is kind,
but with ever lover comes another.
And we will all fall in great and deep love,
be intoxicated with each other,
and our sweet kisses that God himself would shed a tear
for such beauty that still exisits.
Love needs two hearts,
you cannot have one, without the other.


Details | Ballad | |

My addiction

I have an addiction...
It dont matter what time of day it is my addiction is there...
Not always in the literall since...
But it is always on my mind...
I lay my head down to sleep at night thinking about you...
I sleep dreaming about you...
I wake up thinking about you...
Your always on my mind...
No matter what I do my addiction is always on my mind...
Even if your not the last one I talk to before I lay my head down to sleep...
I still lay my head down thinking of you...
I just cant get enought of you...
No matter what my addiction is there...
My addiction has a name...
Her name is Shelby Nestle...
No matter how much we text or talk on the phone...
Its never enough...
I cant get enough of your beautiful eyes...
I cant get enough of that beautiful smile...
I cant get enough of kissing your soft lips...
That feeling I get inside when our lips touch...
Or holding you in my arms...
This is a new addiction to me...
Never have I been this addicted this quick...
It scares the shyt outta me...
But then I love it...
You are my new addiction baby... 
You are my...
My heroin...
My ecstacy... 
My cocaine...
You are my own personal drug...
I cant imagine and addiction stronger...
You are my addiction...
I wouldnt even think about trying to break this addiction...
I wouldnt go to rehab for this addiction...
I like it to much...
YOU ARE PERFECT JUST THE WAY YOU ARE


Details | Ballad | |

In Youth-less Age

In Youth-less Age
 


Though gentle, hopeful drifts we brood,
but age our wont be kind enough,
in threescores is when life imbued,
will partial be the earthly stuff;
but you'll still be my fancy then,
when Suns shall be the Shallowest,
and dry as those days --my fingers, pen!
Diluting the persistent best;
then shall I my own mind bereave,
when servile times would near a close,
but will your eyes, mine still deceive,
that greater truth than life propose.
The understanding of our earth,
up till we stay, --the way shall give,
entwine when with a lovers mirth,
we not our age but more shall live;
there I shall be a part of you,
though life may still not worthy be,
but time the hearts as one does sew
and breeds the soul's eternity.
 
Soon ladies fine with auburn head,
in youth's subservience shall grow,
with shadows white and lips blood red,
to whom the haste --the world will owe;
but, by the words that reason frowns,
and those that cost if cared for less;
within the gardens, across all towns,
just you my dame this heart possess,
as your my gardens cherished fruit,
could time nor age do you wrong,
your grace can shift a hand from mute,
such do my rhymes to you belong,
and the words, claims that come to me,
be their center, and my days renew,
until the time this soul is free,
and life us quells, an end pursue;
the end of the sojourn we made,
shall love then still be intense more,
when breaths and sight move to a fade,
like youth, your age --I shall adore.
 
R.N.Khan, © 2012


Details | Rhyme | |

I've Danced on Tables

I’ve danced on tables

My boots laced high

I have that kinda style

Cognac in one hand

Tambourine in another

I go on for miles

Songs of sorrow

Songs of love

Sweeping the night time air

Stars all aglitter 

A toast to you

Glasses raised high in the air

We sang and we danced

We laughed and romanced

Days that lasted forever

Now we look on

As they dance to our song

Our days have but gently ended


Details | Ballad | |

Anwnn

Coming from the misty lake Lough Leane
Came a beautiful maiden of the name of Niamh
Upon a mare, for she is not from the world of man
A seraphic princess from Anwnn
Upon the shores she claimed around his kin
"I have came for Oisin son of Finn"
"Maiden you come to me so alluringly 
I am he, if we marry for all eternity!"

And so he rode upon her horse to the secrets of Anwnn
For he and she, they'd be happy for all eternity 

Come with me to Anwnn
I am she, your queen Niamh
I have come for you Oisin, son of Finn
Don't leave me or you'll see 
The age of man
The age of man
The age of man


Details | Rhyme | |

Better With Age

A favorite star of mine 
that portrays class and style
is Demi Moore and then
she stated with a smile...
“I said I would get better with each baby, and I have."
I find this quote funny 
yet with meaning and I'm glad. 

In this century
do we really still judge?
Continuing to find the need
to label unique love?

If a woman finds content 
in a sweet male cub
then we should be happy
instead of using our noses to snub. 

I find the term cougar
a compliment in the end.
It symbolizes maturity
not prowling to win. 

As we age we gain
self assurance and self worth.
Becoming confident 
instead of dependent like at birth. 

Maybe there is a connection
between a cougar and younger men.
Don't knock it unless you've tried it
perhaps it will bring you zen.



*By Kristen Bruni for Cougar Effect Contest


Details | Rhyme | |

WHENEVER MIDDLE-AGE RECALLS YOUTH

Whenever middle-age recalls youth
with its long, exciting and carefree days:
we remember that we lived them in our own ways;
our parents argued that it wasn't astute...
have they forgotten how they shamelessly lied
to get some romantic kiss before it actually died?


Before the invention of television most folks were moody...
there were only radios and vinyl records to listen to,
so the dreamy heart would sing and not be blue;
amazingly today, everything is digital due to high technology.


Even grandmother admitted of kissing her sweetheart over
a few Strega Liqueur drinks before falling face-down on the lawn;
she didn't get caught and that secret has remained with her
until now and blushing she tries to smile, remembering  that frown.


Whenever middle-age recalls youth as being innocent and free of all woes... 
it may surprise you how it went hand in hand with progress;
in the sixties, Rock & Roll was considered evil and scandalous, 
but our frantic moms adored Elvis for his attire and gentleman's manners.



* Strega is an Italian Herbal Liqueur
Translation: The Witch's Liqueur








Details | Free verse | |

Gale in the Night

“There were silver sparrows
feeding in the shadows
of bricker-bracken
on fresh pine nuts
from an old hope chest’s cones

Theirs were waning wings
tarnished in the window
of a bricked-up build
with a china hutch
from an old age gone long

I came on haunting heels
creeping like a widow
of a blacked-out bond
who misses much
from an old age gone long

It’s all an adage gone wrong”


That’s how you sang 
like a gale in the night
and the stars met
that had been crying out for eons

I cut my hand 
on the feather in your hair
and the sun set
as a drop of blood into the ocean

I felt so sane
with an eye to your words
a striving get
for seeds still being sowen

I swear the wind has never blowen


Details | Rhyme | |

In our future

I see her in my future/
Her smile still has that same smell/

Her wrinkled voice still shines in my darkness/
To the countless souls she’s granny/

She’s my baby/
To the world our love was greedy/

She’s nobody’s ancestor she’s breathing/
She’s my wife that’s why we look alike and kinky/

I see her in my future/
She still reminds me where i left my poetic underwear/

She’s my lady/
I see her in our future/


Details | Romanticism | |

Baby Sitter

I watch her sleeping a helpless rose without me Like a man watching her sleeping wife Her life looking innocent and scary I then change diapers She hates diapers But she cries when you don't remove them And mourns as you remove them Just like her mother Then we play games together I act her age to win her love I prepare meals and feed her Like my bride on the wedding day With these forty years i am making soon Her twenty years makes me that Her baby sitter


Details | Ottava rima | |

Richard, I Remember You

Oh, Richard Ruef, I remember you.
And sunlit strolls; oh, quiet interlude.
We studied; then we danced at night’s adieu.
The dreams live on a lifetime to conclude.
Your promise locked within a future new.
Near poetry of moths and lengthy halls,
As to my memory our dreamland falls.

Discovering your hopes a little late.
You left behind a friendship that had grown.
But, I was young and lost at virtue’s gate.
Our fate denied like thoughts of you, alone.
To see you once again would be so great.
Under a porch light, sharing present lives.
My open window waits; the hilltop thrives.

November 9, 2014


Details | Rhyme | |

A Single Summer Night

The summer’s heat made me almost swoon. Here we were on the last day in June. Two weeks had passed since I wore my cap and gown. I spotted a woman who had just moved into town. For a boy at the young age of eighteen, everything comprised a usual summer scene. What attractiveness she possessed! I could not help but stare. I swear I saw her wink at me while she passed through the sultry air. I was all alone later that day when she walked up to me. She said, “Hello, I am new in town. My name is Audrey”. This woman was older than I, and must have held a mystical force. She was enough to make my ship begin sailing well off course. This lady told me she lived alone and went through a divorce. We walked over to her house, and then we went inside. Audrey took my hand and showed me she had nothing to hide. I was a boy when I saw the sunset with my eyes. The next morning, I was a man when I gazed at the sunrise. Many years have passed, and Audrey is but a memory. In a single night, this woman made me reach maturity. Robert Pettit for Frank Herrera's Coming of Age contest


Details | Free verse | |

I took my wife to breakfast

                      I took my wife to breakfast   nearby two lovers
                      briefly nibbled on each others ears   we ate 

                      our pancakes and our sausages were sweet
                      as candy-apple lips and forgotten flowers

                      from the mornings of our youth
                      their ankles and their knees

                      caressed beneath the table-top
                      while the sugar in our coffee soon dissolved

                      I ate my food and made small talk
                      but wistfully my hearing strayed

                      the restaurant was good
                      where four lovers might have been


Details | Free verse | |

Sweet Twenty


I have the same hopes 
now as when I was 
twenty and longing. 
All I longed for 
when he was twenty 
have really come to pass. 
But the flavor of reality is 
not the same as the flavor of dreams. 
As I walk through the city, 
the flavor of dreams drives me. 
Saturated in the honey of dreams, 
I expect impossible things.


Details | Free verse | |

The Senior



Many would judge 
Jerry an old man, 
not accustomed 
to the idea of course. 

He keeps 
old songs in his head, 
about new streets, 
meeting strangers. 

It never quite wore 
away from his 
belief-hopes in 
magic amour carrying him 
to new warm shores 
and thrills from pretty fingers.


Details | Free verse | |

Past the Age of Romanticism

It’s unfortunate that we are living past the age of romanticism. It’s as if in our busy lives we don’t have time to make time to let moments intertwine. We are workaholics and hedonist who forgot to appreciate that love exists.

We are a couple decades over the time where the hearts use to frequently blossom and more than passion was the outcome. Instead we pay more attention to Hollywood heartbreaks and gossip. Stories of lust and mistrust that give love a bad name. Soap-opera clichés where to apply the word 'cliché' would be cliché. 

When it comes to affection our conscience are unconscious. The mind's treachery leading to  heart's lechery are the components of nonsense that leave the soul no longer autonomous .

Then there’s the other side of the story of those who look for glory, trying to find congruent atriums and ventricles.
 Those lonely individuals whose only finds happen to be asymmetrical.
Those that live for love, those that lust love and can’t ignore it, also those who die for it.
 
It’s that common misconception that their next lover will be their last.  
It’s the repetitive mistakes that made their next lover the same as their last.

It’s the entangled bonds between two roses that are divine. We comprehend not that we are diatoms in Diotima’s explanation of a love story. 

There’s no acknowledgement of platonic love.
No demonstration of admiration for the family unit, friends and all the experiences we undergo. 

It’s out of resource and need that Eros grows. 
A gardener should be there to watch their seed grow.
It’s out of love that we should plant our rose.


Details | Free verse | |

A boy and a Girl

Love is such a powerful thing to feel people tell teens you dont know what love is ..Your just full 
of out of control hormones. Its so much more than that. what adults dont understand is we 
would do anything to be with theone we so very much adore. Take my little story for example. 
A young independent girl starts falling for a much older guy. There is a four year span but they 
both think age is just a number. The boy tells this girl she is beautiful an gorgeous every waking 
minute he gets. he makes sure she is all in tact making sure she isnt falling apart because they 
cant see each other b/c of their amazing age difference. They talk to each other whenever they 
can. Everytime they hear each others voices they start falling for each other even more. They 
had a long talk about what they wanted to do to be together. They both decided that the girl 
would wait three years until shes of age. He keeps telling the girl hang in there b/c patience is 
always the best way to deal with this situation. They both talk about the great memories they 
already have experienced. The boy tells the girl she is amazing an worth the long, painful wait. 
He says we will make it through this little bump in the road. The end of the tunnel is far away 
but soon that light is going to shine as bright as it can an im going to run as fast as lighting 
strikes this earth an jump into my future with him. My future looks so bright an amazing with 
him. finishing highschool then college is near. But after my school days of highschool he is all 
mine. This guy an girl are going to wait for each other. In the mean time they are going to 
remember the good times an focus on the positive things. When the girl starts thinking 
negative the boy will tell her its all going to be over soon an a new beginning will come.


Details | Rhyme | |

Blind

I see in your eyes,
Shining like a star,
The future of us together,
Glorious and far.

I see in your eyes,
Our hands clupped tight,
To help each other,
And survive with all of our might.

I see in your eyes,
My wrinkled face,
The bald head and no hair,
Ever growing at no pace.

I see in your eyes,
My ageing and illness,
And your service to me,
To achieve all my fitness.

I see in your eyes,
The wonderful memories,
That we made together,
Sensing the other tenderly

I see in your eyes,
Your tears for me,
In lows and high,
Love for me so free.

I see in your eyes,
Us getting old,
And being together,
And never losing the hold,

As i caress your hand,
Wrinkled and scarced,
The skin so rough,
And yet you are still so tough,
Always your eyes have told me so much,
About the present,past,future as such,
And the love we share eternally will be,
For you will the same teen girl for me,
And yet even if you have grown old,
With patches under eyes getting to fold,
I see in your eyes my entire life,
Because I always saw you as my wife,


And may be these eyes are my guiding light,
Which took off my life flight,
And your ever glittering eyes of gold,
Even if we have gotten so old,
It doesnt matter even if i am blind,
I have your younger picture in my mind
For love needs a heart to shine,
Cause the oldie "teen" will always be mine.


Details | Rhyme | |

SILVER STRANDS

Embarrassed of her age and getting no praise,
she cut her gray hair with a furious face;
oh, it seemed the color of glittering gold
strewn with silver curls! What made her think
she was unattractive and way too old...
and if that were true, how would she get another wink?


Blinded by shame, she cut off the gray strands and hid them 
in a violin case...was she a famous violinist of a Symphony Orchestra?
Was it madness, lack of confidence or even allodoxaphobia?
One can be certain of this: age cannot be stopped as air or hail! 
Why go into fits and curse fate for not grating one's wish?
Don't we know that our stay is a temporary one until our death?



I barely remember her, and could never say hello when she hurried
past me with deep worry and sadness on her unfriendly face stricken with horror.
" What a lovely lady! Why didn't she smile? " That made her look old!
Had she put on a sweet smile even for a second, she'd have been my lucky ace poker!
I even thought of asking her for a date...go out with a complete stranger?
Not quite so, a few times I bumped into her at the coffee shop last winter. 


Here comes the funny part...it wasn't coincidence,
yesterday rushing out of the door a gust took off her blonde wig,
her shaved head was similar to a watermelon: smooth and shiny like pie,
and her pretension even more absurd than foolishness;
she tried to chase after it with speedy steps, but she failed and began to cry...
by luck, I caught that wig floating as a newspaper's page or twig.

 
Before passersby saw her bold head, she covered it with her wool scarf,
and turning to me said, " Thanks a lot, sir . " I was shocked and wanted to laugh,
she flashed the most adorable smile and she really looked young and sounded bright;
and as she pulled it down with hurry and nervousness, " My name is Susanne Moore...
what's yours? "  I replied, " I am Andrew, the single guy next door. "
" Eh, still single? Would you like to go on a date this Saturday night? "