Age Old Poems - Poems about Age Old

after "Do not go gentle into that good night", by Dylan Thomas Age can not scour away the furrowed gnarls time obeyed, Nor mask the snarls, gouged as trenches on brows. Grace knurls the grip that time has long betrayed, To swage wrath and fury to a form that age endows. Grace reveres the knurled design that time has hewn, Not...

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It seems that I am getting old and grey, my body's also slowing down its pace. But, I've still much to do, and much to say. It seems to me that life is like a race, It starts off fast with youth upon your side. You swiftly run and barely leave a trace. It seems each day is like a rolling...

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They say age is just a number, but its much more than that. Now everything I eat or drink just somehow turns to fat. I used to kick a soccer ball all over sunny fields of green but now I throw my knee out just pulling on my jeans . My auburn hair that hung in waves, long and full of...

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Not all old people are wise. Remember fools too grow old. ...

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If you’re older and somehow not dying, Yet live with dementia or worse, Prepare to be hit with some lying Before your last ride in a hearse. This strategy’s gaining approval As nursing homes struggle to cope With patients whose memory removal Deprives them of reasons to hope. So little white lies are suggested Like, “Your husband will visit real soon” Since the truth often...

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when I was a little fellow sitting on the front porch waving at the Amish buggy as it goes by we weren't much different as we were farming with horses then but now there's a machine shed instead of a barn huge machinery my grandson uses to farm I'm ninety now sitting on the front porch waving at the Amish buggy as it goes by...

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My love is silent as I slumber on, A day rises beyond my window frame, And in my fragile body, I grow lame, But I found a mirror all decked and don. What odds that a looking-glass cause, Alice, Placed outdoors I can see a younger me, Under the sun, I am basking carefree, Passing familiars whom I cherish. A reddish sun drawing...

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OLD AND NEW I do like looking back to how it was If challenged I will answer, Just because Many memories keep that sort of glow And there is nothing wrong with old, you know I sense that things were different back then The appeal of staying out after ten Perhaps it was the innocence of youth But everything seemed safer, it’s the...

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There is a story in her eyes Listen to her, before she dies past dreary storms of pain and loss her soul’s been made whole by His cross there is a time for gentle words timeless truths serenade like birds listen to how the sea can toss her soul’s been made whole by His cross there is light in her life and times her...

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Heart and Brain are at war over a sinking ship, "There's too much baggage!" cries Brain. We must let it go or we'll sink and die! The ship drowning in it's rusting pain. "Only these anchors are what's left of the voyage here, Id rather curl up n drown" says Heart Id happily embrace the end and keep what's dear, Than...

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In our youths Whose job was it to inspire fear? To imprint awareness beyond our years; Just a clear explanation And our expectations perhaps, Perhaps, Wouldn’t be all in tatters around here In our youths Why did no one tell us we’d have to face uncomfortable truths, And how to teach ourselves to just Be ourselves, for no other sell than to...

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Who knows who he is; how old he is? He is older than me, I know that: He is an ancient being. I am certain He must be omnipotent and omnipresent; He knows all (omniscient). He is from the age of the dinosaurs— Ask him how and when the meteor hit. I bet he could give you an answer, He has an...

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Growing older is a carousel of highs and lows, each spin a memory, each turn a change. It’s the morning ache in places you never thought could hurt, the pizza you once devoured now a restless night’s companion. Your vision softens, sounds blur, and the quiet hum of life’s smaller details becomes...

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There's more rust in my joints than ever. My bones sound like an old screen door, and my knees predict the weather better than any app. Give me elastic waistbands, soft slippers, and the creak of a recliner that groans every time I sit. Bring on the grandkids with sticky fingers leaving fingerprints on the walls, and loud toys that play the same song again...

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I Old Age, let me not be a fugitive, Renegade, nor an earnest votary, Yet, when ye arrive on one unknown eve, Let no stray doubts dwell on my loyalty. If youth’s relished, leaves a lifelong footprint, A touch of enduring grace does it give, And on how-to-cope-with-old-age, a hint, Or else, O hasten that sooner I leave. Yea, nigh fit, let...

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