Ageing Poems

Ageing

Does it seem inevitable to you
That ageing provide with calmness
You get sociopathic too
More addicted to aloneness
When you were young you felt salvaged
Protected by the wise and sane
But you’ve grown old and disengaged
And everything’s becoming plain
The wise support the power drunk
Against their will, but maybe not
Some of them watch their wisdom sunk
They might enjoy it quite

CAT - ASTROPHIC TRUTH

A brief but deep connection
As we lock eyes across the room
And I have a sense of pain
I feel the saddest surrender
To what life does to you
Over the incessantness of time
I watch as she so slowly settles
Muscles not so lithe in age
But wide eyes still locked with mine
Somehow it is a shared moment
Perhaps a camaraderie that

Bright Chapeau

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

Old Librarians

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

Reflection in the Mirror

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

AGEING OUR fINAL FRONTIER

.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

Ageing fast

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

Unexpectedly

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

Growing Old

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!

Cinquain again!

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

That Squeeze Box

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

The Pros of Ageing

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

Visitations

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

Ageing Fabric

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

I Stare In the Mirror

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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