Best Early Retirement Poems
I'm Rudolph stuck in traffic, and on this of all the nights,
and up to now my nose has matched each set of traffic lights,
the fat guy in the back keeps bridling at our progress slow,
why I get saddled with him each year, I harnessly don't know.
When other Reindeer used to help, back then boy, we could fly
but they've been made redundant since their running costs were high.
Dasher's now a quarterback for Minnesota Vikings,
and Dancer's in a chorus line, it's much more to her liking.
Prancer's found a new life with the Spanish riding school
and Vixen works the shopping Malls, which I think is pretty cool.
Cupid isn't stupid he went for early retirement
and Comet just lives off the land, Lichen his sole requirement.
Donner runs a kebab shop, he's doing pretty well
and Blitzen helped but left because he couldn't stand the smell.
So here I am, life can be cruel, it never reins it pours,
stuck in a line of SUVs instead of home indoors,
and Santa's whining at the fact I cannot be cold started,
and that is why I warmed him up, I clenched my cheeks and farted.
(All spelling intentional)
For contest 'Christmas Rhymes', sponsor Kim Rodrigues
November 27th 2017
Eh, pal what are your chances of winning?
Ah, you could have banked all this saving
for an early retirement...
to cherish that sentiment!
When you're completely broke, start cringing!
The phone rang early in the morning waking me from a sound sleep,
The hospital called to say that Gramma had gone into a coma deep,
I’ll get dressed and come to the hospital right away to sit by her side
The nurse said don’t bother, she won’t know you, and alone she died.
...and the door opened, from deep within, something stirred inside.
Excruciating pain happened, it seemed to come out of nowhere,
What is this, I am only fifteen, it gave me the biggest scare,
You have stones the surgeon said, it is a gallbladder attack,
Had major surgery at a young age and I never looked back.
...and the door opened, from deep within, my life began to get on track.
After two heart attacks that left you with only 20 percent cardiac function,
In a wheelchair from rheumatoid arthritis, your life was now at a junction,
Caring for you at home was no longer an option, we could not manage,
Dying in the nursing home, a private room was their offered advantage.
...and the door opened, from deep within, I had to right this disadvantage.
Your mind slipping, caring for yourself was something you no longer knew,
With complete guilt, the admission to a nursing home was all I could do,
Eyes vacant starring off in space, you didn’t know me or any other guest,
Maybe it was self-preservation that protected you from this place, it was best.
...and the door opened, from deep within, I tried to continue on my quest.
After this, I took early retirement but feeling I still have more to give,
Quietly I listen to your last story as you work hard to continue to live.
Sitting with you while your wife goes out, I tenderly hold your hand,
For no one should every feel alone or abandoned, in this our caring land.
....and the door opened, from deep within, being a nurse is all I understand.
Written September 30, 2011
For Paula Swanson's contest
Opened doors
Won 5th place
There was this science teacher at my high school. One of those idiots who had to kiss his boss’ ass to get ahead. One of those insecure fools who would be far more suitable working in a lab with a microscope up his nose so far his eyes might begin to bulge out, or maybe even at Walmart.
Anyplace other than a school, subjecting poor kids to his nonsense.
So, the incompetent butt kisser somehow won Teacher of the Year. What a joke! The students got together, held a makeshift summit and devised a plan, one that would make school history.
Since Billy’s mom worked as a janitor, she had one of those “good” keys. He yanked it from her one night when she slept soundly thanks to the Ambien Katie stole from her mom’s medicine cabinet. It's a good thing Katie’s mama never watched the PSAs.
The night of the award ceremony, everyone got into position, and nodded to each other. Mr. Idiot Science Teacher approached the podium to accept his award. The administration clapped with cheesy smiles plastered on their idiot faces.
Then, down poured the eggs, “Carrie style." Nearly 1,500 of them, courtesy of Jared’s grandpa’s farm.
A week later, we learned Mr. Idiot Science teacher retired. He was twenty seven.
Yesterday I stopped by Walmart to pick up some milk and eggs. Standing behind the register...the retired science teacher. As I walked away, I glanced down at the carton, thankful he didn’t work in the hunting department.
Natural landscapes embrace the small town Crickhowell,
Comforted in a lush cocooned valley.
The Black Mountains that stretch for an eternity,
And casting of high shadows for an early retirement.
Beauty that will never be duplicated.
Singing rivers run wild through this place,
A calm melody of the Usk in the mist of the morning,
To a raging bull as it approaches a water fall in Tal-Y-Bont.
Power of a world that is unable to convince with words.
Diverse landscapes capture the essence of your heart
As you travel from deep plentiful woods in the Beacons,
Then imagine the most beautiful shoreline ever seen.
Long sandy beaches of Tenby to the cliffs of Landwit Major.
You stare at yourself as you gaze out to sea.
The breeze that touches your face is like a kiss of passion,
A paradise purpose built by Earth for all to see.
History and knowledge owned by its people from the Rhondda,
The true wealth of community still runs free here.
Born are the stars that have extreme influence on the world,
This by all counts is not a coincidence.
A true asset to the World, Wales.
A misfit in Liverpool
I think of oranges saw a painting by Constable of a morning sun
that looked like blood orange dripping nectar down on some
fishermen trying to catch eels on the dark surface in the bay.
There were sail-ships too ready to hoist sail in the morning wind.
When I lived in England I met several police constables, most
of them, nice blokes, alas, during the miner´s strike they became
radicalized, they had a good talking to by those higher up and
were also promised plenty of overtime.
John, the constable, - fifteen years on the beat and no promotion-
a friend of mine refused to partake in hitting miners over the head,
he continued his lonely beat but at the station he was ostracised,
a lonely figure in need of a friend- He often came into my cafe after
hours and we drank vodka with orange juice lamenting the time we
lived in. John got an early retirement and I sold my cafe.
In Other Words
By Elton Camp
Euphemisms verbally avert our eyes
Thus, the unbearable truth disguise
Unpleasant facts from selves to keep
I had my faithful dog “put to sleep”
Aunt Jane recently “passed on”
When into death she has gone
Salacious Sally “turned a trick”
Prostitution carries such ick
“Ethnic cleansing” is easier to abide
Than calling the action genocide
“Negative patient outcome” can hide
The plain fact that the person died
A lady always “powders her nose”
When it’s to urinate that she goes
An “early retirement option” I took
Better than “I was fired” it’ll look
“Culturally deprived neighborhood”
Sounds better than “a slum” would
To say “enhanced interrogation”
To avoid “torture” connotation
These are examples of tries
Unpleasant truths to disguise
another train passes
along the tracks of an addict
sweet liquid poppy
never was a good parent
although one may be found
at your nearest stop and go
anything to escape
those white picket fences
many clean shaven men
have stepped from the closet
lost in a woman's world
as guilt sends them to repent
within a cenobitic community
it is there they learn true love
yet remain confused
by the closed door of confession
which has become just another closet
a sixty year old maiden teacher
has settled for early retirement
to pursue an education of bliss
forfeited for the benefit of others
deflowered by a tainted gardener
marking an early exit from life
another lesson taught......
Bob Shank-Nov. 21st, 2006
Nonagenarian father afflicted,
his body electric awry
with congenital heart failure,
before long twill bid existence bye
whose physical well being -
corporeal essence inevitably will die
unavoidable manifest destiny...
accompanied into afterlife courtesy death
envision caricature immortal grim reaper
moost ofttimes (normally leering)
brandishing trademark scythe,
impossible mission to skirt dark shadow
creeping closer along edge of night, not shy,
eclipsing former robust native son Brooklyn
once upon time aforementioned sturdy strong guy
metamorphosed gallantly,
gangly, and gawky youth
courtesy blood, sweat and tears
conditioned into muscular trim physique
with equal fervor did apply
figurative nose to grindstone, and well nigh
academically succeeded (think flying colors)
attending City College (back then free - no lie)
deservedly acquiring mechanical engineering degree
furthering advanced studies at Columbia University
General Electric career employee
opting early retirement at age sixty
subsequently clocking thirty plus orbits around sun,
a widower past fifteen plus years, he
steadfastly remained married approximately
half century, and twas... understandably
grievously, honestly, and inconsolably sad
when terminal illness stole key
once dirt poor wife i.e. bride (never bartered)
who bore him three offspring - me
including an older and younger sister
acutely aware I (nsync with siblings)
may learn (ex post facto), our father
though art(fully) adept with smarts already told
tragically could succumb (think demise - see
above) regarding pandemic
indiscriminately claiming thee
storied Zayda as linkedin with progeny
thyself begat (deux) from yours truly,
and biological kith brought forth
their precious kin, whose limp body
born aloft without survivors
without filial piety
bequeathed as Boyce Brandon Harris'
soul into realm of dead souls eternity.
Being adopted living in the country
an only child but knew sweet contentment
although had beginnings of a stammer
life was happy feeling no resentment
At the age of 12 there on my own
watching my football team for the first time
being given freedom at Kilmarnock F.C
felt good just there myself so like rhyme
To Blackpool in '77 for my first hols alone
really felt good driving my mini on route
eventful time there lost wallet and car
but found car ok, so had a nice ice cream cone
Have felt fulfilled at Scots Assoc. for Stammerers
providing support for those who stammer
appeared on Scottish TV in '87 in advert
this felt good control in front of the camera
The holiday highlight of my life
arrive in Geneva at 90f so hot
Switzerland breathtakingly beautiful
go Jungfrau high snow/sun you've got
Then om 2012 I took early retirement
to make me so happy and fully free
having time to be in the countryside
watching nature and all there is to see
Looking back thinking of one so special
my dear Christine one so special and true
many great times spent over our 32 years
it's been a real whirl all because we said I do!
(This being my 2000th poem, I thought it appropriate to look at highlights in my life I had forgotten about and how they had influenced my life.)
I knew a man who was raised by a farmer,
who had a very large family; and this man that
I knew was one of 8 boys and 6 girls. This family
farm was located on some of the richest soil
in all the world, and it was surrounded with
great scenery. But unlike his father, he never
became a farmer but worked long and hard for a
company up North that made farming machinery.
An early retirement brought Bill back to the family farm
that was then being leased out by a younger brother to other
farmers. It wasn't long before Bill became a fisherman. Bill
loved to fish, and if anyone ever asked of the whereabouts
of Bill, all they'd have to say was, "Bill's gone fishing".
I was never privileged to go fishing with Bill, but his
sister, my wife, would often speak of the great fisherman
that he was. She'd gone fishing with Bill a time or two, and
would tell me that it seems that the fish knew Bill personally.
Of all the nets cast into the same plot of water, it appears that
the fish raced to Bill's line more than any other in the water.
Bill the fisherman was not in it commercially. It seems that next
to actually catching fish, giving fish away was Bill's greatest joy.
081722PSCtest, A Jolly Fisherman, Julia Ward
What kind of gobbledegulp,
holiday mess,
are you stuffing down your jaw giblets —
one day early ...
you human turkey
Cubicle farm-raised patsy policies
is what your top executive, tinfoil hat fool handlers
are serving you
lower oven rack pooping ninnies
Conspiracy stew —
Genetically modified organism mush squalls
are swimming thru
that grey matter inner tube drain,
you red meat clucky cheeks call a brain
Corporate pecking order is on the
menu packaging downsize
Gobble Raiders of the hallowed profit
sweet yam takeover Arc,
have split pea parceled your succulent
office promotion wish bone
Cooking the books ... green bean stringing
you dumb dinner table birds along
Cellular talk to the boss HR department chick,
if you don’t buttery believe little ol’ poultry me
Now don’t go getting cutlery stir crazy,
put that carving knife down, celery baste boy ...
Are you rooster gone out of your rotisserie mind?!
Coming at me with those carnivore eyes,
watch yourself, now
I heard thru the henpeck grapevine,
that it’s your neck on the chopping block
in two days merger time
Sho’ nuff on Black Friday,
it’s gobble dupe you
that gonna be
in the return merchandise soup line
Now ain’t that some bad Scroogie news ...
holiday tummy ache blues
It’s enough to make a cool, jive turkey like me
start dressing up fo’
yo’ pink slip fowl roast early retirement party
The rich fare so poorly
in completely divesting of the gold chains
Losing it all ... casting away
the luster of the pearly platinum
family portraits on the baroque mansion,
spiral stairway wall
The copper savings ... deposit daub
straw crumbs,
that built the foundation of it all,
starts to totter and fall
When accumulations begin to fail,
put the diminished sprawl
money sign up for sale
Cashing out prematurely ...
losing it all
It's the fatal heart attack,
before the disappearing assets
hit zero
And the cancelled checks
start bouncing back
There are no bankrupt heroes
This penny dreadful thought
gives the wealthy
Freddy Krugerrand nightmares
Leaving the golden nest behind ...
to wing it pauperously alone,
is a wallet tear, safety net falling out
Parachute pursed lips don’t ever
reveal all —
Where the secret stash is mnemonic hid,
in case of an emergency landing
liquidity call ... phantom accounts off-the-grid
Covertly cashing out,
don’t leave much room for
mint condition doubt
Keeping a stuffed mattress attitude,
it’s poor manners to be
obnoxiously soup-line bourgeois rude
Maintain fiscal proletarian discipline;
looking fo’ mo’ easy-open vault,
capital idea opportunities
to reinvest the debt reset default
Staying on a silver cloud
at all cost
Means rushing headlong to a sky precipice,
bullishly fretting fearful
of a bearer bond, bear market free-fall
Piggy bank 401k squeals
be just another Poor & Standard
snout pocket poke to the profit-strapped chin
No-frills credit rating T-note bills
are being dividend, early retirement cashed in
It’s all down-low, bankroll covert action ...
‘cause everybody know
that being milk poppy poor is a withdrawal sin
I got bad feet,
diabetically speaking
The proper medical terminology,
or so the doctors tell me,
it’s chronic neuropathy
These feet don’t have feelings
like the rest of my body
I’m just a live man walking on dead feet
You can step on my toes
and I won’t feel it
Now if you step on my heart,
well, that’s a matter altogether different
Not feeling it ain’t all bad —
early retirement
is a fruit smoothie table side
and a lounge chair ...
kicking my feet up in the air
Feet if you fail me now,
I really don’t care
Can you dig where this brother’s coming from ...
can you feel the pain I do occasionally get in my feet?
Crippling pain which makes you a potted plant
that can’t even run
It feels like you’re walking on hot needles
shot from a blow dryer gun
You say you’re not feeling it,
well good for you
Just remember, one day
them might not be
your most comfortable shoes
Little piggies in a hurry,
gotta run and catch that muddy dollar
As me rat race cheese-off,
peddling asphalt fumes of a 401k Harley
Punch-the-clock tired worker bees
drone alone in a homely cubicle
Fraidy kitty cats don’t snatch the keys,
‘cause blind mice can’t cloud read
the Free Spirit illume manifesto
Little piggies hate sleigh riding
the commuter Rosebud
Butterfly Effect daydreaming ... wondering what
early retirement
is piggy bank
security blanket made of
Debt toll fees accumulate over time,
but there’s never enough
vay-cay time
Not when you’re in a swine rush
to grab the last dime
And when the bio -clock turns,
you’ll find
you’re past your prime
earning days
before you know it
Some little piggies toes
still got that youthful ambition
to stay on bacon patrol
Their vanity mirror never tells them
the potbelly truthful condition:
Corporate merger chitterlings circuit tales
got a real bad, downsizing smell
Nevertheless, those little piggies
lemming commit to the cliff swine rush
Going over the edge,
‘cause they can’t seem to make enough
Only tender Chicken Little piggies ...
(so sauté pork chop top-dollar delicious)
with pie-in-the-sky eyes dreamy wishes,
do remain in the free-market game
Still searching fo’ five zeroes,
to number claim next to their name
Always huffing and puffing
in a swine rush
Ever self-happiness stealing,
never content ...
‘cause what they got ain’t
never enough