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Best Retirement Poems

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Details | Retirement Poem | |

New Future Of The Internet

New Future Of The
Internet


Cable cost are up
too high
You turned to the
internet and so have
I

My Youtube channel
is the way to go
Now I can even make
video shows

I group the videos
to make a show
To bring you the
best of where I go

For kids the mower
and stove videos
I also have vehicles
and some scarecrows

Kids can watch from
morn til night
with lots of things
for a kids delight
							
Light houses, ship
building, and horses
too
Antique barn yards
and tractor pulls
just for you

Aviation, taxidermy,
and crafty wood
works
Viewwithme Youtube
has all the quirks 

The historical homes
make a great tour
Contest and oxen
pulls are never a
bore

Animal friends, I
haven’t forgotten
you
I have horses, dogs,
cows and sheep too

Plenty of petting
pens and milking for
you
And a simple click
is all you have to
do

A lot of shows with
a mix for all
Like demolition
derby or a stunt so
tall

So if you dropped
the cable and you
have a need
I have three
channels for you to
see
 
By: Doris Anne
Beaulieu
     
https://www.youtube.com/user/Viewwithme

Details | Retirement Poem | |

From Pinnacle to Cynical

From Pinnacle to Cynical 

When we were young
We had our dreams
But, in our future we would find
That many times along the way
There were mountains, we must climb
But with the strength  
That comes with youth
We foiled every peril 
And hiked the broadways to the top
Until the path got narrow
Yes, in our way, we reached the top
And then became quite cynical 
For our decline, we could not stop
In descending from that pinnacle 
It matters not, how far we reached
Upon life's twisted routes and bends 
It's knowing that we've seen the summit
And that our journey, must slow, then end
                                                   By JTCurtis

Details | Retirement Poem | |

Confession of a silent Artist

Creative writers are never given flowers while they still breathing poetry.

Biters wait patiently for the last breath to pay their respect and get paid with your work.

Claiming being sent by callings to keep the legend's work alive till infinity.

No doctor has the cue for this sick world.

But guess what we writers do care.

We keep writing spiritually we don't care.

Atleast i don't care, i know you'll be speaking my language with your theft.

Evidently i do share.

You are that invisible disciple i recruited to speak for me in my death.

It's the life of an artist who cares.

We don't seek recognition.

Recognition come to us that's why we endlessly spread.

We are angels with no wings heaven is closer to us we don't fly.

Paradise is home for holidays filled with dead writers.

An escapism from you hooligans.

Its a crime not a mime when you speak rhyme in my rhymes.

Thank God i'm still an infant in this poetry, i have a chance to fill up the grave you dug for me.

Your patience will have to patiently await my departure patiently.

I have enough time to unleash these constipated rhymes.

You think you got me.

I speak better in my rhymes like a machinegun tone spraying pee.

My skeleton is covered in mics louder i do speak rhythmic bones.

My skeleton is made out of cables transporting poetic stones.

My soul will be kept in your brain's museum.

There i said it.

Ye i meant it.

Details | Retirement Poem | |

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 | Retirement Poem | |

Retired

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

Details | Retirement Poem | |

Retirement

At long last - blissful retirement to do as I please!
Take a cruise, go fishing, live a life of ease!
If I opt to snooze-in, I'll continue to snore,
A slave to that infernal alarm clock never more!

Ah, but hold on, what is that I hear?
My spouse says, "Come here, I need you my dear.
The lawn needs mowing, the fence to mend,
Shelves to build and the garden to tend!"

Word that I'm happily loafing has got around.
Pleas to volunteer for community projects abound.
"Will you serve on this committee for this and that?"
'Tis useless to hide 'cause they know where I'm at!

I try to avoid all phone calls asking for me.
'Tis usually someone with another plaintive plea!
I must even skulk about for my afternoon nap,
That I highly prize with dear old Simba on my lap!

Although I have tried with all my might,
I cannot escape from my hapless plight!
Lots of folks say that retirement is a bore;
Seems to me there's more to do than ever before!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved

Details | Retirement Poem | |

Retirement

The retirement age for SSB
Is fast approaching seventy
And age past which - we should retire
Leaving little time - 'til we expire

We'll take pills to medicate
Which will keep us somewhat healthy
And are over priced - as merchandise
But make others - very wealthy

Our fixed incomes won't keep up
With run away inflation
So we'll sit at home - we'll eat like birds
And live in caged - anticipation

Details | Retirement Poem | |

Retirement Plan

 Retirement Plan

Dr. James E. Martin
©February, 2013

Now that I’ve reached a ripe old age,
I sit on the porch and sip sweet tea.
Some may question the wisdom in this,
My response is simply, “It works for me!”

Jealousy is undoubtedly fostered in some,
For that matter anger may surely arise.
I simply continue in my well designed plan
And know that many my life they despise.




Details | Retirement Poem | |

Oh Spring Day

I was wrong about spring, 
for all those months I painted the blame on winter’s dark face.  
Wave after wave of cold cloudy, darkening days,
saturated my damaged point of view.  By the way
I am sure I will die on a winter day, blaming the solstice, 
waiting for the capricious spring to finally arrive.

But my heart will be frozen, and perhaps not even alive.
God how I love the way you make the sun shine.

I was wrong about my fate,
I filled the frame in haste, too busy to wait.  I didn’t listen.
I ate my own eyes, and blamed the skies,
I chased the horizon and wrapped it in lies.  

Oh spring day, it is never too late,
to fill me with mercy and grace as I wait.

Details | Retirement Poem | |

A Hug's Breath



Silent tears as friends hug restricted bodies,
Lingering awkward silences for moments long gone.
A hugs breath on his cheek as friends leave him alone,
Lingering smoke and whiskey shades tints the mind.
A parting quip and a crystal tear shivers in the air,
The gesture wave of failing friendship walks unsteady.
A lonely discomfort nips the soul, a hugs breath,
Clutching a card stained with friends pain,
He leaves for home and retirements reign.



2008 © S.de B.

Details | Retirement Poem | |

You have gave me inspiration

You gave me inspiration

I was on my way to giving up
All this poetry, and stuff
Been writing now for forty years
So I thought I’d had enough
Then I found myself on Face book
Writing verse for all my friends
And then discovered ‘poetry soup’
Then negatives did end.

It seems my love for writing
It is back now with full force
I can’t really see it leaving me
It’s my life, it is of course
Why did I plan to leave it
When I love it, oh, so much?
So I sit by my computer
And try some hearts to touch.

It has gave me inspiration
Being here upon this sight
Sending all my writing’s in
It gives me much delight
I love to know that folk have seen
The stuff  write each day
For this it be my story
All told in my own way.

25 June 2013 @ 0945hrs.





Details | Retirement Poem | |

Young Whipper Snappers



Was self-employed for thirty-five years So when I finally called it quits No big party, no expensive gold watch No well wishers, no funny quips As I quietly sailed off into the sunset I heard this young fellow say “Another piece of deadwood we're rid of! Let's go, it's a brand new day” That's funny, I said the very same thing He's right, it's a brand new day No more stress no ridiculous deadlines Finally time for making hay Young whipper snappers have no idea Their time will come sure as rain “Another piece of deadwood we're rid of!” It'll be they who'll hear that refrain! © Jack Ellison 2013

Details | Retirement Poem | |

Remember me?

I was the one who was sat on the wall
I was so little the others were tall
The school was next door so I didn’t go far
Never needed to go to school by car

I played in the playground with some of my fiends
Long summer days that never seemed to end
That’s a long time ago, can you recall?
The bumps and bruises when taking a fall

Long summer nights turned to autumn browns
As I grew older I had life’s up’s and down’s
Working for a living to make ends meet
Bringing up children that was a treat

Do you remember me? I was young and daft
I couldn’t remember when I last laughed
I had wild ideas but they didn’t last long
I knew back then that I didn’t belong

Now I am older, I’ve survived life’s trials
I’ve cried many tears and travelled miles
Nearing retirement I look back at things
Wondering now what retirement brings

Details | Retirement Poem | |

Generic Minds

generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot 
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine 
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians 
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them

Details | Retirement Poem | |

61 and Done

When you’re born into this world of ours.
You have no idea if you’ll reach its ivory towers.
If you’re lucky to be born into a house of wealth.
Chances are, you’ll go far, have money for yourself.

And even if you aren’t a stiff, who got a lucky draw.
You can still makes millions, as we certainly have saw.
So what exactly is the definition of a successful life?
Money, fame, success, children and a loving wife?

My point of view is one that’s true, what my father told me.
Son, peace of mind, if you can find, you’ll never end up lonely.
I heard the words, not one absurd, but somehow didn’t listen.
For I’m 61, my life’s not fun, not an enviable position.

How I got here, perhaps that’s the question on your mind.
It would take a book to explain, how I came into this bind.
I’ll give you the short of it, I made some bad decisions.
And now it seems that I’m living in the Spanish Inquistion.

But you’re not dead you say, there’s more life has to give.
I agree and want to be out of this insane prison and to live.
Want to enjoy, to employ, the gifts and all the wonder.
And not be attacked, from the back and live a life asunder.

At 61, your life’s not done, you could have died at twenty.
You’ve had many years upon this earth, enjoyed it aplenty.
But if you’re broke, your fire’s unstoke, not a life of envy.
You ask yourself day and night, what will be my end be?

If I had fifty thousand dollars at this point in my life.
I’d create a machine, that would put away all my strife.
So if I can sell this house I own for more than what I bought her
I’ll take the profit, if I can, if I’m not underwater.

And with that money, this ain’t funny, I’ll make a whole lot more.
For I have ideas in my head that will even up the score.
It’s sad, it’s true what I must do, and list this property.
And chances are, I’ll go far, live life properly.




Details | Retirement Poem | |

Another Day Without a Dollar

Another day without a dollar.
Another day, I’m not a scholar.
Makes me yell, scream and holler.
Another day without a dollar.

Another day, not one red cent.
Another day, must I repent?
What the hell, can’t pay the rent.
Another day, not one red cent.

Another day, and there’s no money.
Another day, and it’s not funny.
I can sell, as sweet as honey.
Another day, and there’s no money.

Another day, and I’m still broke.
Another day, no fire to stoke.
As I can tell, I’m not a bloke.
Another day, and I’m still broke.

Another day without a job.
Another day, I’m no slob.
I don’t smell, and I won’t rob.
Another day without a job.

Another day, when I’m on top.
Another day, this has to stop.
Things will gel, they’ll be a pop.
And on that day, I’’ll be on top.





Details | Retirement Poem | |

My Energy Has Flown



Much as I'd like to do what I used to At 78, my energy has flown It's really not matter of choice at all The body decides on it's own Oh how I wish I still had the energy As I did just ten years ago Age has a way of deciding for us How far our body can go Must always try to really stay active Retirement years can be long Mental abilities stay almost the same Physically it's a different song Physical exercise is very important To maintain our youthful zest Otherwise the body starts to shut down And memories are all we have left © Jack Ellison 2013

Details | Retirement Poem | |

Reflections

When I think of all I've done
Plans that kept me on the run
I kind of wonder every day
How I pissed my time away
In my thirties there was cash
Not one buck saved
Not one buck stashed
Sure I thought I could reach fame
From art or science
What a shame
For these goals I truly went
And never saved a single cent
So now it's rough
Though I'm not broke
Just don't live like other folk
My neighbors run out nights for eats
Can't afford such costly treats
When Winter comes they go away
I freeze my rear
I'm forced to stay
Yet I feel the need to try
To make some mark before I die
For in truth these other folk
Live a life that's just a joke
The men dried up some years ago
Their wives plan daily where to go
Their brains are focused on the past
No way to know how long they'll last
So my future's not to dread
Even now I'll move ahead

Details | Retirement Poem | |

A Once Active Soul



Been retired for over three years now I've finally accepted this role As a senior citizen sent out to pasture Not good for this once active soul Poetry has sure helped fill in the gap But looking for something else Maybe creating a children's picture book Got a mind for it I've always felt Not saying my mind is childlike or such But it's probably close to the truth Always was able to get down to their level Even though I'm long in the tooth So wish me well in whatever endeavour Don't need to make one red cent You can wager I'm gonna eventually find it The activity for which I'm now meant © Jack Ellison 2013

Details | Retirement Poem | |

The Prayer Answering God

God answers prayer
indeed that is certain
many can indeed testify
blessing to God is their refrain

I can indeed testify so
as I am retired now
something which I had prayed for
and now it's happened wow!

My works future was uncertain
then redundancy came to me
being not 60 years yet
but God said you're free

Age doesn't come into His plan
for our future is eternally true
God works us in His purpose
his servants we are to do

Our father owns all the cattle
on a thousand hills
what's our life in that comparison?
within my heart He stills

poetgord@2013

Details | Retirement Poem | |

Off the Bench

my baseball playing days in Teeners league
hardly played my main position was bench
by not playing I never had fatigue
use to dream of being like Johnny Bench

in the navy I wasn’t on the bench
I was a star during those times at sea
In France I even spoke a little French
my time out at sea I truly felt free

those days are gone yet I’m reliving them
poetry has been that light at the end
it has nothing to do with my brain stem
I admit this is my life no pretend

I have lived on a bench for a few years
it felt that way yet I never shed tears

Details | Retirement Poem | |

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.

Details | Retirement Poem | |

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

Details | Retirement Poem | |

Too Much Sun



Some guys are cut out for retirement That certainly doesn't apply to me If I had my druthers, I'd still be working This is surely not my cup of tea Used to be such an active fellow Was hard at work twenty-four seven Up until virtually all hours of the night Now I'm lucky if I make it past eleven This poetry site is my saving grace Without it I'd surely go berserk Well maybe that's overstating my case But you get it, I thrive on work Perhaps there's a big surprise in store I'll inherit a million big ones From a distant long lost cousin of mine Might be getting too much sun! © Jack Ellison 2013

Details | Retirement Poem | |

INTELLIGENCE

Kind eyes peer 
out of pages 
gentle features 
of grace replace 
calculated poses 
touched by 
the sun-The sun 
brush-stroked 
color --into his 
cheeks and face 
hints of roses. 
And yes 
I believe 
my eyes as they 
report. 
No doubt- 
Obviously we have 
met here before.. 
Yet unscathed 
by this world 
We come back 
There could be more 
like us 
So we are here 
to watch and wait