Ageing Poems - Poems about Ageing

Life is a heavy hat, we wear it, and we learn to bear it, as we age the debris grows, bright chapeau that once was trimmed with flowers attains a brim of dirty crows, that peck and eat our dreams, crap filthy ropes and jump upon the battered crown weighing down upon our ancient heads, yet somewhere underneath the mess, we smile warriors...

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There are tulips in the gutter perfect blooms, destined for dinner with a friend, they were meant for the table but alas she was unable to attend...

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In the quiet morning light, for the first time, I truly gazed into the mirror, What I saw was unrecognisable, I must confess I was close to it but had to draw closer still, I was surprised to see a jigsaw of times past. Once a canvas, unmarked, Now wrinkles, each a story of lessons learnt and experiences...

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.WE'RE NOT GETTING OLDER WE'RE'GETIN' WISER1 NOW ALL WE HAVE TO DO IS FIGURE OUT... WHAT WE'RE GETTING WISER AT MY WISER AT WHAT I'D PERSONALLY SHOUT,... LIKE CAREIN' FOR MY GARDEN ;'. ADVICE GIVIN'.. KNOIN' WHERE TO FETCH BETTER ADVICE, TO REACH MY AMBITION GOALS ... MUCH BETTER TO...

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Everything's been written Everything's been said Notes that I have scribbled Have long been put to bed Pictures which I've painted Aren't hanging in the Louvre Most of my paint has dried My mojos lost its groove The voice is like gravel On a much travelled road Trodden down over years And silenced by the cold The face in the mirror Looks so ragged and worn Appears as though...

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Unexpectedly I grew old. Yesterday I was seventeen With all my hopes and silly dreams. I was often told, Do not grow old, Old age is for the very brave. But I didn’t listen, hadn’t a care, Chose to ignore the odd grey hair, Chose not to believe what harsh sunlight revealed, Preferring candlelight and what it concealed. Found ways to excuse the much slower...

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It's not so bad, I say, Part of our ride today, Health and mobility our stage, To this golden age, Wake up to say, "Let's get positive, yah!" Old power chaps and miss You have so got this, No need, negative blip, Ageing process is our trip!...

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Got old, It's not so bad, Wrinkle age, bucket lists, Option far worse, naught to discuss, No fuss....

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The Friday that is here today was here yesterday, of course. That's what getting older seems to be, to do: today was yesterday was the day before and before. It's my weekly washday today - weekly, but was here yesterday, or so it appears. Always appears to be. Yes, so it seems, and seems. Time is a concertina. Friday was a week from Friday, then three or four days before...

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Ageing has its cons that l know Yet it also comes with many pros Its a time of great joy and appreciation Life’s beauty and gifts hold boundless admiration Simple pleasures once just accepted Hold value and gratitude, not merely expected No longer do l care what is thought of me I know who l am and that makes me happy I don’t...

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I await sweet Annabelle as I rest in this lonely bower. I yearn to hear her angel voice and feel her healing power. Others come and others go in times I'm given to folly, like buxom Jenny Ramsbottom and then there's fulsome Molly. Sometime I forget their names, it's so hard to keep a tally. Some bore with their chitter-chat, especially one named Sally. I sometime wish...

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Life’s fabric - warp and weft, We loom both right and left But in that piece we weave Some loose ends we do leave So our cloth prone to fray As those yarns start to stray Of our weave we are proud. Perfection not allowed For what was grand affair Now sadly needs repair. Those ageing yarns break more. Loose ends appear galore. The unravelling weave Signals it's...

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I Stare in the Mirror I stare in the mirror and what do I see? An old man with rheumy eyes looking at me. Who is this old codger, this balding old shell, Who cannot remember what it’s like to feel well? Where is the vibrance, the get up and go? Why are his movements so painful and slow? Who stole his...

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Having trouble picking up my pills Lost sensitivity in my fingers Must be careful to take the correct dose It's important for my well being So what's just ahead what will it be ...

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Age is but a number The encumbment one often disagrees its better written in the parody of French were the realisation is not so grand cheating in knowledge at 59 I can say time has lamely gone fast Yet my lounge needs a lick of paint To allow the Sol to replenish its soul Small responsibilities carry me way...

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