Best Old Codger Poems


Rogering Roger

The gals are besotted with Roger,
he's famed for the size of his todger,
they pay for his time
(he charges a dime) -
he's ninety but not an old codger.

No need of Viagra in force
as Roger's ancestors were Norse
(and vikings were known
for getting a bone) -
his resume says, 'Intercourse.'
© Jack Horne  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: old codger, jobs,
Form: Limerick

Premium Member The Gnalsmoob

An old codger who farted a lot -
of good etiquette didn’t know squat.
When I met him, his nose
started running. He chose
his new shirt to wipe off all the snot!

Well, a nitpicker also was he,
and I mean it quite literally.
He was picking his zits 
as he also picked nits
from hair, lice-infested and filthy.

With no 'shilly-shallying', I
backed away from that creepy old guy,
and I nearly threw up
being offered a cup
of his coffee. On top was a fly!


*Gnalsmoob, my poem's title, is a word new to me.
(from Urban Dictionary): A gnalsmoob is anything, particularly 
a person or creature, that is completely and totally disgusting, 
repulsive or revolting. Also, Gnalsmoob is boomslang, a type of 
venomous snake, spelled backwards, perhaps because a gnalsmoob 
is so ugly its appearance stings your eyes like venom.
Categories: old codger, funny, old, old,
Form: Limerick

Premium Member The Dragon Walkie

I was out walking my dragon, when I came across a Dogasaurus Rex.
It really wasn’t so bad until; they got into a real life-pissing contest.
My dragons’ roar was way less than his, and spitting fire, he couldn’t do.
So they squared off, eyes aglow, and yep, a true pissing contest did ensue.

Now, that was really icky, and flooded my neighbors whole lawn, ewww.
Well, it smelled awfully bad, but when they got going, what was I to do.
And a pooper-scooper does not work here, so I had to wait till both were thru.
If there wasn’t enough testosterone, now my neighbors’ was added, to the brew.

A mean old codger lived right there, and now, even he, was royally pissed.
Watering the lawn wouldn’t send it away; it would spread it more, amiss.
I ran to get my neighbor witch, who was laughing her head off, yes, indeed.
I’d need her help to save the yard, and with the old codger, to finally succeed.

The old codger amazed, started adding, held in, bubbling laughter, to the brew.
Seems he’s a lonely old man, with not enough fun added in his life, it’s true.
He tapped his foot, as his dogasaurus Rex did more, what was I to do, in truth?
I became worried, it would be the death of him, if he didn’t laugh out loud, forsooth.

I ask the dragon, to burn the yard, to save us all, but he just snickered more, thereon. 
How, you ask, was I to extradite myself? I went home to put a fire retardant suit, on.
Coming back I kicked, the dragon in his butt, for always being so crazily, put upon.
That quickly brought his fire on me, as I took it into the middle of the yucky lawn. 

With the taunting done, the icky stuff gone, the witch put the grass back, with great skill.
Then, the dragon started laughing, his butt off, while thinking I’d owe the witch’s bill.
Hah! He was incredulous, as I said; he’d do the witch’s bidding, till it was fulfilled.
Then, the silly dragon, down right cried, as I told him, the walkies, would now be nil!

But, Grandpa Troll intervened, with us both in timeout, again, facing across the lake.
And, the old codger, spent the rest of his life happy, entertaining the town, with our fate.
From then on, the dragon and dogasauraus, were seen everywhere, as great playmates.
And me, I always carry an umbrella, so Dragon can never rain on my parade…
Categories: old codger, adventure, fantasy, fire, funny,
Form: Light Verse

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Premium Member Snakes He'd Shoo

Have a Guiness and let’s toast St. Patrick
Whether laddie, lass or old codger geriatric
A bold gent with such clout
All Eire’s snakes he shooed out
Never has there been a saint so theatric! 
Robert
                                 
I am an old codger geriatric  
But I will raise a toast to ST. Patrick  
For shooing those snakes  
Away for our sakes  
He definitely was Saint Fantastic
Beryl
Categories: old codger, celebration, humor,
Form: Limerick

Shiver Me Timbers

SHIVER ME TIMBERS!

Once a cut-throat and cannon ball dodger
Now a one legged salty old codger
But when ship enters docks he
Will look up an old doxy
And hoist up with a good Jolly Roger
Categories: old codger, humor,
Form: Limerick

Premium Member Corsets and Candy Cigarettes

Where are my old white corsets
  Right next to your candy cigarettes

Hey! We didn't get today's edition of 'Grit'
  It's canceled. They use bad words now like 'Guck' and 'Spit'

Oh, and I can't seem to find my orange Pez dispenser
  I threw it out. They've proved that Pez causes cancer

By the way, have you seen the Sunday funnies
  They're a no-go, ever since they canceled 'Pogo'

You know I've got two tickets for the Brooklyn Dodgers
  Ha, ha, ha! Even Sandy Koufax is just an old codger

Then I'm going cruising in my new Studebaker
  --with that benchwarmer from the Minneapolis Lakers?

Before I forget, don't throw away my bottle of royal blue ink
  Ball point pens been around since '38, sister, even in pink 

So you shan't think me old-fashioned, I just bought a brand-new TV!
  -Yeah, a nine-inch black-and-white with vacuum tubes that smile at me

But I paid for it with five million Wheaties box tops!
  That's crazy... I think I'll start collecting used lemon drops...
Categories: old codger, humorous, nostalgia, sister,
Form: Couplet


Sandy Saves Dandy Randy

There was an old codger named Randy
Who rolled on the beach and got sandy.
T'was there he did sleep,
And ne'er did he weep,
So sure that his life was just dandy.

Along came a lady named Sandy
Who wanted so much to help Randy
To soften his heart,
She played a big part,
And stopped him from drinking his brandy.

Then Randy got quickly awake,
So stunned when he saw his mistake.
He thought no one cared
Because no one dared
To love him for his own name's sake.

He quickly got up from his stupor
And started to be a good trooper.
He went to help others
Who didn’t have mothers,
and now his life's work is just super.


Revised: 
January 8, 2016
Categories: old codger, inspirational,
Form: Limerick

Shiver Me Timbers

I'll tell ye of me life as a pirate
I knows ye sees me as some old codger
But when I was a young'n matey
I sailed 'neath the Jolly Roger!

Oh, it's truth I be tellin' ye now
'N ye may think that I be a loon
But I talk so rever'ntly 'bout me ship 'n Cap'n
For in truth, 'E made us dance a lively tune.

'E wore a patch o'er one eye
'N had a hook where fingers grow.
When we 'eard the thumpin' of 'Is  peg leg on deck
We knew some ship 'd be given up 'er cargo.

We'd be a'squintin' 'ard at the 'orizon
'N  'Ed  call for 'Is telescope to measure
If the sail that we'd come upon
Mightn't be a ship full o' a'rn kind o' treasure.

Then we'd sail up nice 'n cozy
A'fore 'Ed  run up the bones on black.
But by that time matey
They could not withstand a'rn attack.

"Shiver me timbers, All hands on deck!" , came 'Is  shout
For 'E was a Taker 'n ne'er a Giver.
It's many a time me eyes  'd see 'Im
Cuttin' out some poor soul's liver.

Oh, some tried to fight,
The foolish tried a runnin'
But the Cap'n made well sure
They'd get a'rn full broadside gunnin'.

We'd jump o'cross the ratlines with daggers  a'tween a'rn teeth
Oft times we'd skewer the entire crew
Then take 'ER  plunder aboard a'rn vessel
'N sink t'othern down to Davey Jones...so thar'd behind be left no clue.

Then the Cap'n set sail for Tortuga
Thar be plenty of Rum  'n  Women for us thar 
Ye still don't believe I was a pirate?
All I can say is..."ARRRRRRRRRR"!
© Dan Cwiak  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: old codger, adventure, humor, journey, violence,
Form: Rhyme

My Old Bosses Funeral

MY OLD BOSSES FUNERAL 
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS 


Went to the funeral of my old boss
After several speakers I was at a loss
Who was this person they were eulogizing
Kind words and praise was so surprising
I knew him well for many, many years
Despised by family and also his peers
He was a tough  boss that never praised 
The toil of his workers, most thought him crazed
One speaker after another had bountiful praise
They must be mistaken or in a mental daze

Like I said I knew him well
Being around him was a living hell
His ex wife had nothing to say
His two daughters couldn’t make it today
His son sent a card but forgot to sign
It said” hi mom” are you having a good time?
I had an eerie feeling throughout the service
These lauding comments were making me nervous

I had to make sure I was in the right place
Walked up to the casket and stared at his face
I had to touch him to see if he’s cold
Lipstick and rouge made him look old
Underneath the makeup he was turning gray
Get him underground don’t wait another day
Sure enough the old codger was dead
But I couldn’t believe the plaudits  said


He was a bitter psychotic misanthrope
He was cheap a bigot a total mope
He was intolerant abusive and never approved 
To belittle and disarm was his every move
The praising went on like a marathon
It sounded as if they’re sorry he’s gone
It must be that he had more than one side
They’re talking about Dr. Jekyll I knew Mr. Hyde


BOSS’S  FUNERAL (2)



Later I learned what the praise was all  about
He left a fortune for his rep to dole out
Total discretion for his rep to give away
To anyone that had something real to say
Everyone here and others previously chosen
To say a few words about the recently frozen
They all praised and offered exaltations
Expecting a big payoff for their commendations


But when the will was officially opened
Not a thing awarded to those who had spoken
Instead everything was willed to his son
Cause he was best to continue his fathers run
Of all of my kin and friends it was easy to see
My son is a son of a ***** just like me
So he gets my wealth and also my genes
He’ll succeed using unscrupulous schemes
When its his time to turn from ecru to gray
He can expose the hypocrites as I did today
Categories: old codger, eulogy, funeral, humorous, hyperbole,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Gonna Keep On A-Gawking

For a man of my age, I should no longer dream

Of pretty young fillies, quite naughty it seems

We don't lose the joy to gawk and to stare

When the sweet scent of female fills up the air

Sure hope I don't lose it, this wonderful feeling

While sneakily snatching a look I am stealing

Girls are aware of the scene they're creating

Of many great memories this sight is relating

The happiest times when we all were much younger

These precious memories haven't lost their thunder

When seeing an old codger hardly able to walk

Still straining his eyes, to stare and to gawk

That primordial instinct is never far away

It still hangs around till our very last day

So all my buckaroonies please do take heart

At one hundred years old it can still joy impart

Trust me I'm honest as the day is long

Life still keeps singing its same old sweet song

Obsessed... I guess you could say that I am

Gonna keep on a-gawking for as long as I can



© Jack Ellison 2015
Categories: old codger, humor,
Form: Narrative

Premium Member It Was a Bit of a Cock Up

A randy old codger called Pete
His actions were quite indiscreet
His passionate whirl
With a sexy girl
Brought the patter of tiny feet!

01~24~17
Categories: old codger, baby, humorous, relationship,
Form: Limerick

Premium Member Poetic Justice

A pickpocket named Dodger
lived to become an old codger,
alas a walking stick and heaps of pain
his getaway speed sadly on the wane.

© Harry J Horsman  2010
Categories: old codger, funny, giggle,
Form: Clerihew

Premium Member Hope I Don'T Embarrass Myself

Old age is fast approaching

Wonder what it will be like

Will I still be able to tie my shoes

Will I still be able to dress myself in the morning

... or will I care

Hope I don't embarrass myself

Walking through the mall in my jockeys

Will I break out in goose bumps

Actually my goose bumps may need

Assistance breaking out

They are at least as old as I am

Will I still ogle the young girlies in their short shorts

Trying to remember why I find it titillating

Dream on you old codger

You're still breathing aren't you


© Jack Ellison 2014
Categories: old codger, age, old,
Form: Narrative

Close Call In Ireland

CLOSE    CALL   IN    IRELAND



I once had an affaire de coeur  with a foxylady, in fact a randy colleen
In Ireland with a tough older brother looking to punch me out.
But I cold cocked the rambunctious  hooligan, 
A real  old blowhard who knew diddly squat  about fighting.
Oh yeah, he had some mickey mouse  gizmo like a nunchaku
But he was a shilly shallying,  vacillating sort of bloke, 
A tightwad  nitpicker  full of  quintessential  balderdash 
(To put it politely),  
And I just lambasted  his ass.    But,  you know, with hindsight
He did almost usurp  my dubious position with his sister.
Actually I rather think he was an incest-freak,
A what-you-might-call  weirdo trying to insert himself sneakily
Into her good books, (and maybe also my  gay books).
In formal language he was an aged  interstitial  gender-bender .
This stupid  old codger tried to seduce me as well as her.
I didn’t acquiesce, didn’t  dilly-dally  hither and yon,  
Like some  ethereal dancer doing a glissade.
In the midst of an abso-bloody-lutely   horrendous  
Wingding of a drunken celebration
The pinch penny  tried to titillate me 
With his  whole second-hand collection of pictures,
A great caboodle  of ***********:     
And that easy  rider fuzzled me  later in  a jimjam party
And almost brought me out of the closet.
He was some Tallulah,  let me tell you. . . . wow!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

NOTE
Almost the entire poem should be highlighted for 
it contains every word on the given list
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Entered in  Debbie Guzzi’s  Contest       For Love of Language
Categories: old codger, funny, me, old, me,
Form: Free verse

Technology Has Passed Gramps By

Technology Has Passed Gramps By

By Elton Camp

For Gramps to the Electronic Age to relate
Developments came several years too late

A pocket calculator was the last he used
Later developments, to learn, he refused

Lately, the old codger has been known
To try to work the TV with a cell phone

A text message he never has sent
Nor any time on a computer spent

Yet, he heard so much about Internet
Down to a box with buttons he sat

About the Internet he began to rave
His wife said, “That’s the microwave!”
© Elton Camp  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: old codger, humor,
Form: Rhyme
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