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Age Stress Poems | Age Poems About Stress

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

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Details | Free verse |

The Color Missing

The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes.  Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.

‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’

Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013

Details | Chastushka |

PrEmAtUrE aGiNg

pReMaTuRe AgInG
an older woman and a younger man are a trix in between because as his love blooms he sees himself aging. _________________________|
penned on august 31, 2014!

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |

Alone again

Many years have passed me here 
Sitting on this old mat
Like a speeding train 
None of who have passed, never looked back

The rising sun 
Has chased away the morning dew
And many time I wondered 
Why my friends are so few

Hot days give way to the evening mist 
Who will be by companion tonight? 
I dread when the evening cometh  
The wild dogs and I will fight again  

Copyright © Dennis Williams | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Midnight in the Age of Unreason

Midnight in the Age of Unreason

At midnight in the age of unreason
if you’re still as a bird on a wire
you can feel it	
all the souls hating
seething in the black stillness
vibrating with bad mouthed phrases
shaking the earth with their malevolence
digging deep to damn
rattling the bars of your cage with their forgetting
tearing at your agony
because they’re born to hate
and push you to the edge of reason.

There is a word for these people
bleak as the shadows from a full mooned sky,
dark as condemnation.
It challenges the collective conscious that causes cerebral discord.
It makes beautiful the din and dung of tongues.
It weaves lyrics that strike patterns on paper.
It breeds hope in the human heart of humanity
never giving up on a cosmic shift
where reason controls unreason.


Copyright © Janis Thompson | Year Posted 2017

Details | Salaam |

Yeh khaalipan

Jab Meri Bechaini Mit Jayegi
Jab Mere Dilko Sukoon Mil Jayega
Yeh Khaalipan Mit Jayega

Do Pal Ki Chandni Ke Liye
Aj Bhi Zinda Hoon Main
Meri Khaamoshi Ke Ageh Aasmaan Bhi Khatam Ho Jayega

Kehne Ke Liye Toh Roz Marta Hoon Main
Thoda Aur Marne Ke Liye
Yeh Deewana Kal Phir Ayega

Copyright © shadab shaikh | Year Posted 2013

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.”


“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

Details | Light Poetry |

Because I'm ready to grow up

Because I'm Ready To Grow Up

I have had enough 
Enough with the happy times

I'm ready to take on the stress
No more playground or bubbles baths please
Enough with the piles and piles of mess
I'm grown up now ready for change

I had it with being a baby bird
I don't want to be fed I don't want to cry
I want to get out of the nest, spread my wings 
I want to take flight in the sky so high

I had enough of the princess dresses 
Get rid of those Barbie dolls
Throw away all those plastic high heels
And bring on the teenage texting of Lols

Don't u get it I've had enough
I'm ready to grow up to break out of the shell
I'm prepared to take on life's earthquakes 
Waiting for the day when I'll have stories to tell

Princesses and fairies will never be real
There is nothing in the world that's free
You don't magically have a happy ending
All i can be in life is me

So I'm ready to grow up
To escape the magical world
For you have to earn whatever you want
Nothing comes in a pink sparkly twirl

So I've had enough
Rip my childhood apart
I'm happy to face the impending future
drown the happy memories in my heart

Copyright © Sapphire Williams | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |

Happiness in a Wrong way

Happiness in a Wrong way – Zamreen Zarook

In the notion of seeking happiness,
I thought of stepping in to nonsense,
I dream I could find success,
But I had only little access.

Every attempt that I lend,
It was an utter failure at the end,
My life was full of difficult bend,
But God is always there as a good friend.

My deeds travel in various ways,
Some times in subways,
Or in times it goes in highways,
But I had the belief, God is there always.

North and south families surrounded,
East and west friends are rounded,
Every time fear on death soughed,
I am trapped, and my merits are loaded.

Copyright © Zamreen Zarook | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |

sibling Love

don't let me see you on my street 
or creepin through my window 
I immensely want your head hanging 
on my living room wall 

I plan to hunt you down very  soon 
So don't go making my chase easy 
I wish you were not a sibling of mine
I wish you weren't in my mind 

But your spying and childish games 
are grounds for me to go insane 
You must learn the hard way 
I really wish you would escape.

Copyright © kaotik kandee | Year Posted 2013

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?

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

The Strand

This expanse of land has seen things. 
Things all of us can only see in dreams.
It's seen war, it's gotten it's fair share of scars.
Bombs bursting, bullets throwing sand into the air like it's a volleyball tournament.
The sand running red with blood silently mocking our arteries.

This magnificent stretch of land has seen heroes' tears fall; dropping to their knees while sadness envelopes their fallen brothers but also looking up to their beloved whilst carrying a ring in their hand. 

It's seen bright days, the sun glimmering over wet sand, footprints of past loves being washed away as the sun smacks the horizon. 

This expanse of land...has seen things we can only imagine.


Copyright © Tyler Kisner | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

The Door is Always Open

Things get bad, then they get good again.
You can write yourself angry.
You can write yourself sick.
But never
should you write yourself sorry.

The world, to me, is many things:
A canvas, a movie, a place to store
everything you are and will ever be,
but never a bell jar.

As long as your hands can shake
and your voice can quiver,
never close the door.

Love the ground under your feet,
and your only sadness 
will be that a blanket of sky 
can't keep off the cold. 

Smile with every breath you take, 
and you'll realize that, 
no matter how much you weep,
you will never fill an ocean.

Look inside your heart:
There's answer there.
You'll find,
deep in an oblivion of night,
there is a light somewhere.

It may not be much light,
but it's brighter than darkness.
Follow it.

If you seek, you will find 
yourself always involved in 
and as long as that door never closes,
whatever something will be enough.

I promise.

Copyright © jes russick | Year Posted 2013

Details | Enclosed Rhyme |

just breathing

        When life takes hold of you no mercy given  
        Foreclosures popular , the new age to walk ..driven
        When your nerves are shattered 
        The home you live in seems scattered 

           Just breathe ~

       children don't understand why you can't give money on the daily 
       life feels cold and The bills are unbearable to open it seems
       When there is not enough food in the pantry for all
       you feel you are losing as you begin to fall , loose sight of dreams 

            Just breathe ~

     All these things are a test , every breath that counts.
     It's the faith,  and will to live , as anxiety mounts
     In your darkest hour just call on his power  
     with the help of God above , you will surmount.
           just breathe ~ just keep breathing

      "  Just another day in paradise Contest "

Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

Flat Canvas

Flat canvas;

Bubbling brown ridges strike 
The confining dimensions in a hostile yawn: 
Upwards, Outwards.

Walk the world no longer, an ending beckons, 
A precipice builds moments where swallows wager wings 
On new seed: New breeds.
Falling buys the assurance of seconds
From a sinking well. 
Oh well.

Remember us when the globe begins to slip,
Bang drums for our pity:
Our crescendos mean less than meaningless.
And then, when spheres crack, continue 
On the whorl of a thumb, 
Stretching hope to nothing.

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Cowboy |

Matters of life and death

Isn’t life short, today here tomorrow gone.
Switching the world off, turning eternity on.
How many before us, in the world have lived?
Just in a short while, to embrace their grief.
Many sort and earned great treasures
Many lived chasing around pleasures.
One moment masters of the world,
The next buried corpses in the ground.
Once celebrated figures of glory,
Now buried skeletons of history.
As many a poor men stagger upon wealth,
Just as many rich, succumb to poor health.
In the end we are all prisoners with no say.
We are all dogs waiting for our day.
Life is a dark winter seldom warmed by cups of tea.
And everyone is but a tiny fish lost at sea.
We may prosper here and conquer there,
But soon our strengths and efforts wear.
If you are lucky, it’s just you and a few friends,
By your bed side as your life ends.
Life is like a painful recurring bee sting,
Which you will pass down to your offspring.
you leave in them your blood and with them your name.
They believe their time is better, but its all the same.
They don’t see that the future is but a deck of cards
And you can only play the hand dealt in your hands.
Some are born to wear gold watches and to live in mansions.
Some are born to poverty and the consolation of sacred songs.
The rich man’s heaven Is drinking wine in hotels by the  beaches.
As the poor man in his hell, waits upon his resurrection to riches.

Copyright © Jack Nganga | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |

Candy Made Of Cotton

You were born and raised as a dream,
That someone else liked to keep.
Run me like a river,
Currents can’t keep us from sleep.
You were raised like a flag. 
So sorry so forgotten,
You were left at half mast.
A tomato in the sun not dried but rotten. 

Candy made of cotton.
Dreams are meant to be forgotten.
And I’ll forget with help from smoke and ashes.
Alone here we lie between the sounds.
Don’t we all think our lives could be profound?
But my genius only comes in flashes.

Turn me like a table.
The only stories I ever heard were fables.
So now all I tell are tall tales. 
Something about cats in cradles. 
I wanted so much from life but I was afraid to reach.
Now hand in my pockets tangled up in sleeves.
My dreams have stayed just dreams.

Candy made of cotton.
Dreams are meant to be forgotten.
And I’ll forget with help from smoke and ashes.
Alone here we lie between the sounds.
Don’t we all think our lives could be profound?
But my genius only comes in flashes.

Copyright © Ag Ki | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

What Do You See

What do you see when you look at me?
Do you see someone who is scared?
Or do you see someone who is brave?
When you look at me do you see someone wild?
Or someone who is calm and behaves?
Do you see someone sad and crying?
Or do you see someone who is laughing and joyful?
What do you see?

When you look at me what do you see?
Someone confident and smart?
Or someone shy and wanting to part?
Do you see lies?
Or do you see the truth when you look at me?
When you see me do you see a quiet and hushed child?
Or do you see a loud and rushed child?
What do you see?

What do you see when you look at me?
Do you see me as smart or dumb or somewhere in between?
Do you see someone too young or too old to be your friend because I’m only a teen?
Someone too skinny or too fat?
Someone ugly or someone beautiful?
Or am I just right?
If I am right then let me be me, for when you see me
Do you see what you want, or do you see who I am?
What do you see?

Copyright © Deborah Samuelson | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Born to Fail Life

Born to fail in life

What is life? Why are we expected to fight?
To struggle, starve, hate, & cry just to keep on the lights,
To always be praying for the sun to shine but it still remains a dark night,
To see family of yours or mine, die physically or emotionally in their mind,
To work for long hours while starving & crying beyond a rich man’s will to grind
We are promised a better life but those who say it continue to lie & cover the truth in a disguise
This disguise consist of happiness, love, joy, & a beautiful site, now doesn’t that sound nice?  
But no. Life is just a game in which you cannot win,
A light that is promised but only to find a light that is dim,
To drive some to the point of throwing their life like trash into a bin,
It’s no wonder so many poison their body with smoking & drinking gin,
They want to ease & numb the pain while slowly meeting their fate with the grim,
Why are we not given a life that is fair?
Why aren’t we allowed to think outside the square?
Why do things grow worse every day like a fire flare?
Why is beauty judged by body, looks, skin, & hair?
Why when someone cries or dies, no one simply cares?
Why must the things we eat or keep, become so hard to grow or find like its rare?
Why do stores sell food like pears, that has pesticides &chemicals that are still there?
Life has us all by its grip,
When we patch a problem, another one rips,
A violent setting where led comes out the clip
Where fatherless kids own 45’s with the pistol grip
Living in a environment where the air is breezed with hollow tips
Where diseases is common & available, & every day we always get sick 
Where the young and the old go to break in homes, in other words “hit up a lick”
Life will only grant a few with a good life but only the evil or rich get picked
As we struggle to get by
There’s some who can’t, & get high
To the point they feel like they can fly
Life is a trip in which no one wants to ride
& you only get respect by what type of car you drive
A life where you are only respected by wearing a tie
To work for everything we have, just to lose it when we die
Life is so unfair & cruel but yet nobody can explain why
But life is a place of pain
Oh how life can be so strange
Because it flow through our veins
Then gives us the needed high to our brains
Where problems began to pore like rain
Where feelings begin to burn like a flame
To be pushed to the point where you become insane
& get punished for easing the pain with Mary Jane

Copyright © Elroy Lee | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Shifting Through Snow

Part One: Screaming

The gravel walkway 
Stretching down the maple lined path
Leading the the brown wooden mailbox 
Turn the corner to the pool
And the spiders 
I’m scared 
Scream for daddy 
But realize daddy is gone 
Gone because a truck hit him 
But that's grown-up talk
Scream for mommy 
But mommy is mom 
She doesn't have time for spiders 
Or kids 
Only work
I scream for my friends 
But nobody wants to be friends with 
The white boy 
So I scream for the sake of screaming 

Part Two: The School

I turn again and I’m at my school 
The red slides on the playground 
The broken swings with the yellow warning tape
Worn out from the rain and sun 
The playing 
The laughing 
The pushing 
And the crying 
Suddenly mommy has time to scold me 
Her fire hot words lash scars on my chest 
Then speedy hands leave bruises on my back 

Part Three: Therapy

Take another turn and I’m in my therapist's office 
Trembling because of what mommy said
Be honest he says 
But that will only get me in deeper 
Being honest 

Part Four: Snow

One last turn and I leave it all behind 
The abuse that I called love 
I scream but this time it's not spiders 
It’s freedom 
The realization hitting me burns 
Like a kiln in a dutch kitchen 
Searing off my skin 
Exposing the worn wrinkled meat below me
I go to the snow where my wounds can heal 
And as I shift through the snow 
I wonder if I could ever go back

Copyright © Jack Bare | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Conversations With Myself Part 3

Youre Jaded.

When did you notice?

About 4 years ago.

Did you?

Not till recently,

funny the lies we tell ourselves.

You did come up with some good ones.

Im still on top of my game what are you talkin about.

Stop doing That.


You know what, putting up a front when it gets real.

Its never real.

Who thought the girl who was always on it would finally get jaded.

To be honest, she did it too you.

Thats baggage.

I did it to myself.

Are you sure.

I knew it was bad from the start.

Loves funny like that.


Im done, really.

I see it most when I look in the mirror.

The lights still gone isnt it.

Dont talk like that.

You saw the spark right.


Rememeber how we used to sing that Aerosmith song and swear that would never be you?

How could I forget its screaming in my mind.

That's funny.

If you say so.

Jaded before thirty, was your life that hard?

Probably not,

But with everything Ive been thru can you blame me?

Not really, but theres other people...


We dont do that remember,

Everyones different.


But your strong.

I know.

Just jaded for the moment.

We'll call in inspiration,

Soften it.

Dont do that.

Im jaded.

Copyright © Stacy Brown | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |



One day I went to Morrisons
 Forgot to take a map
 I only wanted beans and buns
 And bog roll for a cr*p
 Got lost by the ladies things
 Forgot my North and South
 I didn’t come for flapping wings
 Or stuff to wash the mouth
 It’s just as bad in Sainsburys
 Perhaps it is my age
 The fruitless quest for herbal teas
 Just puts me in a rage
 I’m far too flipping old for these
 Daily shopping trials
 I’m sweating like a Stilton cheese
 Lost in the British aisles
 Maybe home delivery?
 Should I? Do I dare?
 Become a couch potato
 Fat arsed, shopping from my chair
 I’d miss the talking checkout though
 And cheery orange bags
 My unexpected items
 And my special pricey fags
 I’m hard, I can handle it
 I’m such a little trooper
 And while I’m there I’ll have a sh*t
 Markets. Simply Super.

by Gail

Copyright © Gail Foster | Year Posted 2015

Details | Bio |

The Cry

Why do tears caress your soft face so frequently? 
Why is it that when you cry and let out a large scream, 
Which resonates from deep in your heart do you feel relief? 
Why can you not find the arms of a mother or a lover who can give you the same relief as that scream?  Where you born to wonder alone? 
A lone being that has given all 
Only to find that you have given a little too much and are now left bare. 
No-one had requested that you commit to such a feat; 
No-one had expected you to give it all
How can you not blame yourself when you find that you have nothing left? 
When you find that all has been given and no-one is willing to share?

The cry is God given 
When a child cries their protector responds and tries to put right. 
The cry is not to be left unattended. 
When you become of age however your protectors’ take on different forms, 
A mother becomes a lover 
And your tears are now for yourself. 
Where are your protectors? 
You frantically search for them but only find mocking… 
You are of age now and your cries will be left unattended.

Copyright © maya chaar | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |

Boiled Brains

So finally
Age's shadow throws its cast
Time for some to live the past
And yet I have this silly quirk
I'd feel much better back at work
So rather than stay home and snooze
I'm back at work
No time to lose
And with a staged real happy face
I join once more the working race
Ignoring others ripe with cash
Doing little with their stash
Their burned out wives no longer stay
With boring mates to waste their day
So maybe my new life's not bad
Better busy
Then just sad.
Use your brain
It must be fed
Just move ahead
Get out of bed
New challenges will keep you strong
Don't waste these days
That's just plain wrong

Copyright © Gary Kraidman | Year Posted 2013

Details | Carpe Diem |

Working Man - Revised

This man cannot grasp 
His task at hand.
With fervor he tries
Trying, working, his
Sweat soaks his brow.
It is getting dark.
What will he do?
He tries to finish
But, can’t get it.
The sun sets, time runs
Out, defeated.
Time to pack it in.
He bows his head.
Maybe next time, he
Thinks to himself.
With a last big sigh,
He lays to rest.
For soon the morning
Breathes new attempts.

Copyright © Mike Beard | Year Posted 2017