Best Old Person Poems
Every time I sneeze or cough
Either my radiator leaks or my exhaust backfires!
Shouldn't be a big surprise
It's a definite sign we ain't no young chicken no more
When you grunt just putting on your socks
It's the ninth inning with two men out
If you have to turn up the volume on TV
Till it shatters the wine glasses in your dining room credenza
You are not far from the end
Another sign that you ain't no spring chicken
Is when you repeat the same sentence twice in a row
Is when you repeat the same sentence twice in a row
Also when you forget to zip up after you pee
What's worse though is when you forget to zip down
When everything hurts and what doesn't hurt doesn't work
It feels like the morning after and you haven't been anywhere
Your knees buckle but your belt won't
You sink your teeth into a steak and they stay there
You sing along with elevator music
You have a dream about prunes
Your nose and ears are hairier than your head
In dog years you're dead
Growing old is mandatory, growing up is optional
And finally... inside every old person is a young person
Wondering what the hell happened!
© Jack Ellison 2014
On Faith
Faith to follow as a blind human instinct,
not to be analysed, not to be judged yet distinct.
Life - plant stands erect with Faith as its firm root
to yield ‘Inspiration’ and ‘Expectation’ as flower and fruit.
Doctor holds Faith on life to start from first breath
to continue and last till last breath ending in death.
About life children believe to feel free and tell
‘All day long to play, dance, sing or to listen to tale.’
Young guys have faith on life to observe
as ‘ Love is Life’ and ‘Life is Love.’
In query of life to guy below poverty line :
His Faith rolls in struggle to arrange lunch and to dine.
Political leader believes life dependent on public mass.
Drunkard believes life to cycle around wine glass.
‘ Idea about life ?’ When questioned to an Architect
Answer came as ‘ From master plan not to deviate.’
Intense difficult question as asked to a Scientist
Reply from Faith comes ‘ Search and research to clear mist.’
Intrinsic query on Life to a Mathematician
deals with Faith on analytic approach and calculation.
Experiences about Life as asked to an old person
Answer from his belief ‘ Meaningless ! All achievements are gone !’
‘ How to illuminate life ? ‘ asked to a saint praying to Lord
His Faith declares‘ Humble life comes from Divinity ending in God.’
Faith running, rushing, rolling, rippling , propagating
Absolute no need of explaining or investigating.
Eternal Faith pulsating in every human breath.
Amazing maze of life, amusing musing on Faith.
When my hair was blonde I did not see
I looked pretty close to age one hundred and three.
Why people crossed the street wherever I’d be
Was a complete utter consternation to me.
No one likes an old person in the USA.
They run from us all night and day.
My hair will never be blonde again.
Burgundy hair dye for me is a win.
All Chevy drivers are dangerous; they cannot drive.
I search for a few minutes, finding the Chevy emblem.
Watch stealthily, sure enough he cuts in front of me.
Proving my theory.
Now I change my truth to all Missouri drivers are crazy.
I watch one do a crazy U-turn and add it to my schemata.
Drive a few more minutes. Decide all black cars have unfriendly drivers.
Must change this theory when I remember I am driving a black car.
Listen the radio a few minutes. Here an old person on there complaining.
Grouch. Grouch. Grouch. Gripe. Gripe. Grouch. Grouch. Grouch.
She has some kind of a weird accent.
My truth is now all people with accents are complainers.
My schemata is adding ideas all the time, sometimes adjusting.
A car cuts in front of me, almost causing me to wreck.@#%&*@#$#@@#$$%%
That must be a Chevy driver.
I race after him, honking and giving him the finger.
He looks back and returns the favor.
His car is a Ford.
Oh.
I slow down, drop back. Ford drivers are okay.
This must have been a one-time accident.
Meanwhile he has added this truth to his truth box.
Old ladies wearing red Kansas City Chiefs shirts are crazy.
“I don’t know.
It’s been just one of those itchy
dry skin days
where you know somethin’ has to happen
but it ain’t;
at least not chet.
I was expecting a call but
it hatn’t come either.
The ‘wild willies’ were settlin’
in somethin’ fierce
an my stomach was feelin’
somethin’ awful.
It was like- -um, uh
taste of bad whiskey
on molded bread
that was tryin’
to be fresh,
but there just weren’t no way.
Even if it could, what
difference would it make?
Not a dab!
So I just sat and stared- -
at the coals,
that used to be lit,
and still could be if I was a mind to,
but I ain’t .
Shore is cold though.”
as the last thought
he ever had, passed
through his head.
I wrote this in a semi-light hearted motif to take some
of the edge off of a sensitive subject.
Do you know someone who feels alone. They are just
as alone as anyone you will ever meet, Loneliness is an
acquired perception, often a gift of good people, though
not habitually or intentionally thoughtless or self-centered, they
“just do not have the time”, They “do not want to get involved”,
or “just do not like someone’s looks”
Go visit an old age home this next week. Sit in the lobby and strike
up a conversation with any old person not interested in the TV.
See how good you feel when you leave, even though you may
have dampness in and around your eyes.
The Poem is dedicated to nine innocents who has lost their lives in Israli attak on their
humanitarian aid.
Docility, a living destitute of Anthropomorphism.
Recency, appalling of desperation or piteous anomalism.
Recommendations apotheosize a fussiness of hell or heaven,
A gun shooter killed innocents a crackable Raven.
To shot a child or an old person hard lines limicolous
Inconsecutive lewdness a peevish peeping Tom Ligneous.
Reprehensible polygamist direful coiled chaotic prattle,
A salacious salubrity paramour remorseless battle
Lord, hear my plea and my prayer,
I surrender my life to you;
wipe away my fears and tears, as I am broken.
I cannot face today without you at my side,
lost and hurt, confused and betrayed;
by life's challenges and my own attempts to save myself,.
On my darkness days you lifted me;
and held me high.
Twice now, I have knocked on your door- close to death,
and you sent me back for another tomorrow.
You restored my life and gave me hope and dreams,
without you, my heart would be dead.
Oh, but Lord there are days still,
when I am tired of the struggle, drained and worn out;
and that is when I need you the most.
Then, I look about me and see your beauty,
in all that I view, a flower, a baby, an old person, the sky.
I see you in every single thing.
I need you with me every second and moment,
every hour that I exist- to calm my heart and soul;
when I am out of control and struggling,
it is my faith in you the soothes and calms.
When, I have thought that all was lost,
oh, how many times in my short life so far.
When I have stood at a tomb weeping
you lit a fire within me to go on and to fight,
Lord, you gave me the gift of writing,
the gift of compassion,
and I promise Lord, I will use my gifts to honor you.
___________________
August 30, 2017
Free Verse/Hear My Plea and Prayer Lord
Copyright Protected, ID 934770
Written for the contest, Why Do I Need You Lord
sponsor, James Edward Lee Sr.
Seventh Place
I am: A lady-My mama saw to that.
I am: An American- So proud of my nation.
I am: A widow- I buried two husbands.
I am: A mother. I bore three beautiful children.
I am: A grandma- I have six grand children.
I am: A great-grandma- I have 12 great-grandchildren.
I am: A great-great grandma.. I have seven great greats.
I am: A Christian.. My folks were believers.
I am: A Lutheran. Same church for fifty years..
I am: A church goer. I never miss a Sunday except now in pandemic.
I am: A gardener. Formerly vegetable. Now flowers.
I am: A garden club member from local to National level.
I am: A certified flower judge. For forty years.
I am A Washingtonian. I've lived here since 1943.
I am: A North Dakotan. Born and raised there.
I am: A rural resident. I live alone on my farm.
I am: An author. I have published a book of poems.
I am: A reader. I love books.
I am: A retired person after 30 years same job.
I am: An old person. I will be 102 on 7/7/20.
I left the pub one night in a bit of a tizzy
and saw some kind of being like a tin lizzie.
This turned out to be a polite alligator
now on probation for having eaten a waiter.
The police left it tied to a street lamp, it seemed.
It looked so kind. how its joyful face beamed.
It spoke perfect English, quoted Terence and Horace.
I was surprised to learn that its first name was Boris.
"In life,' it confided. 'whatever you do,
apologize profusely and past failures rue.
Then proclaim calmly the past to be past.
Now is the time to move on at last.'
Its sudden jerk made me lose grip of its leash ,
before attacking an old person whom it ate like a quiche.
"I just couldn't resist, so please don't tell the cops,'
it said, tears in eyes. while licking its chops.
The loss of that gentleman causes me pain.
I promise sincerely not to do that again.'
Then two irate policemen appeared on the scene.
One was fat and the other was lean.
Boris polished them off at remarkable speed.
To discourage this act no plea could succeed.
I wagged a finger to show disapproval
at such a violent and hasty removal.
'I am so sorry,' said Boris 'That's the last time
I shall ever commit such a base crime.
As I said before, it's time to move on.
The past is past. what's gone has gone.'
Who then should appear but Lord James Murray,
whom Boris devoured in rather a hurry.
'Boris,' I cried. 'That's enough. I'm perplexed.'
'In that case,' said Boris, you are the next.'
I ran like a hare for all I was worth
as never I ran from the day of my birth.
I got to my home, rushed in, locked the door.
I hid under the bedclothes, struck to the core.
What a hangover I had on the following day.
I saw no sign of Boris, I'm so glad to say.
As I sit with my friend and try to speak
To find the right word so often seems bleak.
You see as an old person you do slow down
Where did that word go? You begin to frown.
I know what I meant, that’s not what I said,
‘cos sometimes my brain seems not in my head.
I think it must have gone back to my youth,
Perhaps a two-year-old, and that’s the truth.
As a youngster everything has a name,
As you grow old you start losing the game.
At times words get all mixed up in your brain,
And you wonder how this happened again?
I said elephant when I meant giraffe…
My friend's old too, so we both get a laugh!
Scorching sun reflect my face on thy water
Show what's in my lonely soul
Let the chapter of my sad moments unfold
Show the people that I am not bold
I was once green as grass but the poison has made me brown
Just like how ever old person was once young
My demon has age with me in this rundown town
Leaving nothing for me to claim but these memories that's fun
Not everyone wishes for you to stay around
Their are waiting for this curse to be undone
Thinking you are the problem when in yourselves it can be found
All these years of pain I could say had made me numb
Emotions aren't meant to be worn on your sleeve
Always let them believe what they want to believe
Strive for result not what are televised
Believe in yourself and you'll see changes
HAZARD ON THE STREET
She really shouldn’t drive
That old person hair so white
She doesn’t know what to do
Such a sad pathetic sight!
Car horns blow behind her
She hears a man rant and rave,
“You shouldn’t be out driving,
You’ve got one foot in the grave”
I see why she’s annoying
She seemed so dangerous too.
Wonder does she live alone,
Does she have a me or you?
Perhaps doesn’t have a choice
When to Doctor she must go.
Before you condemn old soul
Think of elderly you know.
Glance her way once again
Put yourself in her sad seat.
One day we too may become
An old Hazard on the Street!
Barbara Barry-Nishanian
March 2003. copyright
The absence of death's fear in the heart of an old person is a sign of wisdom!*
© Demetrios Trifiatis
06 May 2018
* Third part of my Trilogy on death
An old women bent over her shopping cart,
she is a solitary recluse, cut off from the world;
there is no one at home waiting,
her existence full of tattered memories.
An old man goes for a coffee each day,
always by himself, forlorn, sad, withdrawn;
the only person he talks to is the waitress,
her smile is his only joy;
Loneliness is the emptiness of many souls,
having chosen to live a life secluded;
they walk this world in shadows of the past,
living within their heartbreaks and sorrows.
Loneliness is an old person dying alone,
it was not always this way,
oh, so many dreams sadly, just distant memories,
then a faint sigh- and they let go.
___________________________
September 18, 2016
Poetry/Verse/"Faces of Loneliness"
Copyright Protected, ID 16-830-863-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, 100 In A Row - 15
sponsor, Poet Destroyer
Eighth Place
Why is it that people think that they are going to live forever?
When a child is born into this world,
It’s a precious moment,
We are filled with so much happiness and joy,
People say that when you have a child, that is when life begins,
How true this is,
We give up everything to nurture this new life,
In return we slowly give up our life,
You start to forget how to be the fun loving person you once were,
Your past life becomes a distant memory,
When you look at yourself you can’t seem to recognize who you are,
Your identity slowly slips away,
You spend endless hours and time trying your best to put a smile on their faces,
While your smile fades away,
Then one day when you open your eyes and look into the mirror,
You see a hard cold reality,
You see an old person looking back at you,
Your precious years has passed you by,
You feel like you have been robbed of your time,
So I say to you,
Stop!!!!!,
Balance your life,
Live Life to the fullest,
Don’t be a time waster,
Give your love and keep some love for yourself,
Don’t disappear,
Love your life,
Make each moment in life mean something to you,
Love, enjoy, find pleasure, and happiness in whatever you do,
For its all for a limited amount time.