Best Retirement Poems | Poetry
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New Retirement Poems
Don't stop! The most popular and best Retirement poems are below this new poems list.
A Happy Retirement
by Ellison, Jack
The Retirement Home The Final Stop
by Rigoler, Maurice
by Schuetz, Gwen
Retirement Is Not For Me
by Krutsinger, Caren
FROM NOW ON - REFLECTION ON RETIREMENT
by Gauthier, Line
No imagination no retirement
by Smith, David
by Timperley, Dave
My Retirement Years
by Ellison, Jack
by Beachboard, Deborah Guenther
Retirement is Not For Me
by Krutsinger, Caren
View all new Retirement Poems
The Best Retirement Poems
Rusted, but well oiled and continuously in use, heaven’s gate.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Contest: One, One Liner
Sponsor: Rick Parise
© 9th November 2016
Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2016
Remember years ago, when you were fit
Now you can't stand too long, before you have to sit
And all the times that you ran to catch your bus
Now it just passes by and you stand and cuss.
In the days gone by you'd eat like a horse
Now when you go out it's only one course
And much smaller bites when you do eat
Because your sweet tooth has cost you your teeth.
And the beautiful body you had as a young teen
Now when you go to the beach, you hope you're not seen
And tying your laces it's hard if your tall
You have to rise slowly because you might fall.
You go up to your bed feeling alright
Chances are you'll be up in the night
Having an accident is something you dread
So you put plastic sheets all over your bed.
And your eyes are not as good, as they used to be
So you have to wear glasses just so you can see
But it's not all gloom there is the odd perk
You can stay in bed later, because you don't have to work.
And you've been through life you're wiser too
When your family need advice they'll come to you
So burn the candle both ends, just have a ball
And enjoy your life until you get the call.
Copyright © Tom Cunningham | Year Posted 2018
Wild Birds and Nutsy
There still is beauty in the lengthy life,
Tho no longer glamorous corporate strife,
Grief and relief fall on first lonely days,
Staring outside at the wild life at play.
Beginning to guess what is that bird song?
What is that harsh screech that doesn’t belong?
The swish of a tail and the bark of a squirrel,
Capture the mind to find a new-found world.
Waking up walking in a wild feed store,
Buying seed, talking needs unknown before,
Naming each bird and “Nutsy” the new pest.
Challenges the same as those old ones now rest.
When wild life becomes a new family,
You’re hooked, they’ve won you, addicted, you’re free.
Copyright © Sunlite Wanter | Year Posted 2017
Strolling around town
At prohibited time
Ignoring the church bell sounds
While I see people hurrying
Down the sidewalk
On their way to work
Think maybe I'll find
Pen and paper
And have a coffee somewhere
Or maybe not
Copyright © Steinar Gismeroy Olafsen | Year Posted 2014
Creative writers are never given flowers while they still breathing poetry.
Biters wait patiently for the last breath to pay their respect and get paid with your work.
Claiming being sent by callings to keep the legend's work alive till infinity.
No doctor has the cue for this sick world.
But guess what we writers do care.
We keep writing spiritually we don't care.
Atleast i don't care, i know you'll be speaking my language with your theft.
Evidently i do share.
You are that invisible disciple i recruited to speak for me in my death.
It's the life of an artist who cares.
We don't seek recognition.
Recognition come to us that's why we endlessly spread.
We are angels with no wings heaven is closer to us we don't fly.
Paradise is home for holidays filled with dead writers.
An escapism from you hooligans.
Its a crime not a mime when you speak rhyme in my rhymes.
Thank God i'm still an infant in this poetry, i have a chance to fill up the grave you dug for me.
Your patience will have to patiently await my departure patiently.
I have enough time to unleash these constipated rhymes.
You think you got me.
I speak better in my rhymes like a machinegun tone spraying pee.
My skeleton is covered in mics louder i do speak rhythmic bones.
My skeleton is made out of cables transporting poetic stones.
My soul will be kept in your brain's museum.
There i said it.
Ye i meant it.
Copyright © Young King sa | Year Posted 2013
From Pinnacle to Cynical
When we were young
We had our dreams
But, in our future we would find
That many times along the way
There were mountains, we must climb
But with the strength
That comes with youth
We foiled every peril
And hiked the broadways to the top
Until the path got narrow
Yes, in our way, we reached the top
And then became quite cynical
For our decline, we could not stop
In descending from that pinnacle
It matters not, how far we reached
Upon life's twisted routes and bends
It's knowing that we've seen the summit
And that our journey, must slow, then end
Copyright © Jerry T Curtis | Year Posted 2014
The alarm clock brushed my teeth and then forced me to drink orange juice.
As I looked out the window, a cement sky was pulling down the corners of my mouth.
The newspaper on my front steps was wetter than a spitball. Trying to read it was like trying to page through baklava, just not as tasty.
The coffee grinder handed me a bouquet and asked if I would like some help with the corners of my mouth. I cradled the steaming mug so I could feel the rays of sunshine in my hands.
As I headed out, the wind surprised me by throwing the door open and kissing me. Her lips were cold, but her breath was very fresh. I was mad at first, but must admit, it did feel good.
When I got to work, the building was talking trash to me, and I talked trash right back,
reminding him that I was close to retirement. That shut him up! I paused and then tightly grinned, knowing full well that someday I will miss them all.
Copyright © Luke Irwin | Year Posted 2012
Cant lift my eyes beyond half past seven anymore
Nay! I do not wish to see...
Past hyphens and inverted commas
Lies and more catastrophe
Ambidextrous clock with appalling brevity
The second hand throws away society
Caught on the hook of an apostrophe
Hit and run humanity
With what shall I beseech thee?
Amix with soot and grime am I today
I painted me....! I mascara'd me!
Not this... warpaint for smudges
A discard of society
Sunk in dank mediocrity
Left to dream on the periphery
Sacked and sold with all their niceties
And pensioned off into obscurity
Cascading through the fingers of our hands
Groans the running Namib sands
Camel plods along ignoring facts
Dali's clock is molten wax - a mystery
Certain as Terrabyte and Megabitten memory
Omits to call- forgets to visit me
Copyright © Jannie Breedt | Year Posted 2016
So words become; the order of the day
and order of the day becomes
the soldiered meaning of all work and play,
the ever present, beating drums.
Then words become; the lure of the lie
and liars lure every son
with shadows of gold 'til they all but die,
to retire, to be, to be done.
And then, once again; the words become
the order of every day
to sleep, to awake, to be dead and done,
'til all words fly, ever away.
Copyright © Tom Hitt | Year Posted 2015
New Future Of The
Cable cost are up
You turned to the
internet and so have
My Youtube channel
is the way to go
Now I can even make
I group the videos
to make a show
To bring you the
best of where I go
For kids the mower
and stove videos
I also have vehicles
and some scarecrows
Kids can watch from
morn til night
with lots of things
for a kids delight
Light houses, ship
building, and horses
Antique barn yards
and tractor pulls
just for you
and crafty wood
has all the quirks
The historical homes
make a great tour
Contest and oxen
pulls are never a
Animal friends, I
I have horses, dogs,
cows and sheep too
Plenty of petting
pens and milking for
And a simple click
is all you have to
A lot of shows with
a mix for all
derby or a stunt so
So if you dropped
the cable and you
have a need
I have three
channels for you to
By: Doris Anne
Copyright © Doris Beaulieu | Year Posted 2014
A Better Day After All
A ring of the phone announced
A holiday call to say “hello”
The news from working days,
Days sometimes bringing nostalgic yearning,
That feeling of being a part of things,
A desire for the perception of good old days
Days when accomplishment was joy, and
There was news of friends gone by,
There was news of politics and meetings,
And then, then, the realization like night arc lights when
You’re gone, you’re gone, left behind, but
Today you didn’t have to drive on slick streets,
Today your frig had a grocery, and you could stay in;
Today you could write this little offering.
A better day after all.
Copyright © Sunlite Wanter | Year Posted 2016
I’m thinking about thinking about retiring
Not sure when that will be
I know I need to make a change
I’ll do it soon, you’ll see
I’m thinking about thinking about moving
To a warm place by the sea
Guess I’ll do that another day
It’s dinnertime for me
I’m thinking about thinking about everything
That I have to do
I suppose that I could start right now
But…I’m off to the zoo
Copyright © Mike Gentile | Year Posted 2017
From now on
Mornings will never be the same
How fortunate I feel
Can’t take it for granted
Everyday I am thankful
Not rich but enough to get by
Free to do as I please
Create my art
Just for the love of it
No need to peddle or hussle
To put food on the table
Of course it wasn’t
Always so easy
Everything has a price
I haven’t forgotten the years
Of ploughing through
The ruthless game of
Politics and personal agendas
In the arena of public service
Keeping an eye on the finish line
That seemed would never come
Giving my all till depleted
Not everyone is willing to pay the price
Accumulated scars and anger
Nobody ever said
Respect would be part
Of the salary package
But the finish line comes faster
Than one can imagine
Time passes and
Only now I stand back
And see the big picture
After comatose years of
Deprogramming and recharging
Peeling away layer after layer
One day there it is
That inner pearl exposed
Primed to be nurtured and polished
Feeling excessively fortunate
Overall very few people are so lucky
Submitted on May 28, 2018 for FROM NOW ON POETRY CONTEST sponsored by NAYDA IVETTE NEGRON - RANKED 9TH
Copyright © Line Gauthier | Year Posted 2018
Woke this morning, thought, might take a shower
it's 9:00 am already, will eat lunch in a few hours.
When I dust and make the bed, chores will be done
why check the ballgame scores, don't care who won.
After my nap, think I'll watch the kids play
wrote in daily journal, didn't have much to say.
Almost time for news, weather and that wheel game
can't recall who won yesterday, prizes seemed the same.
Dinner wasn't too bad, eat fast when dining alone
nothing's on the TV, nobody to talk to on phone.
Might as well go to bed, be nice to fall asleep
there's no reason to get up, no promises to keep.
Tomorrow will be another day, do it all over again
really miss old crazy Joe, he sure was a good friend.
Laying here listening to the siren, headed to the fire
it's quiet, peaceful and empty, wonder why did I retire.
Copyright © carl jent | Year Posted 2017
His skin like the patina of worn out leather,
burnt and cracked from many hours in the sun.
Across the wide plains in the hot Texas weather,
he rode tall in the saddle to get the job done.
North to Kansas City on this last cattle drive;
then back down to Fort Worth he hoped to survive.
Weary and tired from his night spent under the stars,
as he pushes the dogies along the Chisolm Trail;
across the dusty open range, pristine with no scars,
unlike the plains today, fenced and crowded and frail.
On his last cattle drive for the Goodnight Ranch,
heading up north across the Red River branch.
This proud crusty cowboy, way back in the day,
rode with Jack Hays at the Battle of Plum Creek,
when Buffalo Hump’s Comanches went down in dismay,
now just an old timer, tired and grey and weak.
This last cattle drive before his spurs are hung,
this cowboy’s patina, the legend of which songs are sung.
June 29, 2018
Copyright © John Gondolf | Year Posted 2018
As the second hand ticks away my breaths
a half-clad moon catches my eye.
Was a time when I might've seen
the ghost of half-eaten melon,
but I'm older now, my thoughts less spry.
Dark fear's hobgoblins
were long since relegated
to memory's chuckle drawer;
open windows to warm nights ease my mind.
I must shave and write.
Neither seem as pressing
as the once hormone-inducing prance
in distant starlight,
the hot exhalations of desert air.
Nor do creased page corners
to detective thrillers and t.v.'s prattle
beckon hours with purpose.
I'm the insouciant sentry
at castles in retirement,
the dragon minus annoying fire.
Crows no longer pick eyes of the dead
in picture frames on paneled walls.
My shoes don't guardedly tread
engineered woods of perfection.
Aging brings a basset hound,
graying around the nose,
laying placidly on the rug.
I'll get to tasks eventually.
For now I commune with the moon,
allowing my mind the idyll
of a worn desk in a cluttered room
and the dulcet laze in lyrics of night birds
serenading summer's first hours.
Copyright © Dale Gregory Cozart | Year Posted 2018
From my window I watch the furniture van
drive up to the front entrance: one more occupant,
one more elderly, one more transient.
For most, it will not be a long stay.
Life moves quickly here, like an expected
All must learn to ration the essentials –
money, food, friendships, a scarcity of days.
Like baggage dropped off at an airport,
they wait for childhood’s promised flight
to a new and better destination that will never come,
the hearse they will never see.
Copyright © Maurice Rigoler | Year Posted 2018
My most beloved teacher
For the past three years
You have taught me lot of things
Though most of the time
The subjects you taught are a bit boring
Though I have slept many times in class
You still noticed me and called my name
Though sometimes you are hilarious
Which makes everybody smile all day
Though sometimes your jokes have taken too far
I still like you very much
My friends also like you very much
I also hoping that you would
Stay a bit longer
Thank you for everything
Happy retirement,Mr Lim
By Nur MS
Copyright © Nur Marlina Sari Bt Norazman | Year Posted 2015
You are a very precious treasure more than a golden gem
Working so hard for many years serving your fellowmen
You shared your knowledge, strengths and whole self lovingly
For the benefits of all…making life so worthy for everybody
Your life with this job can be in diversions of path
At times you swerve, you just go ahead and never stop
Being dogged and determined in everything you do
All graces in life from God, through others kept pouring on you
As you are finally retiring on your noble job
You can look back and see your great achievements in life
Not merely on material things but on your career and infinite love
So enormous in the eyes of recipients and your friends around
Your retirement doesn’t mean, it is already the end
It is a new beginning to enjoy your rich rewards and blessings
It’s the most wonderful time to spend your whole life with your family
The alpha and omega of your love and generosity in your community
by Leonora Galinta
All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Galeo DS | Year Posted 2014
Dr. James E. Martin
Now that I’ve reached a ripe old age,
I sit on the porch and sip sweet tea.
Some may question the wisdom in this,
My response is simply, “It works for me!”
Jealousy is undoubtedly fostered in some,
For that matter anger may surely arise.
I simply continue in my well designed plan
And know that many my life they despise.
Copyright © DrJim Martin | Year Posted 2013
my baseball playing days in Teeners league
hardly played my main position was bench
by not playing I never had fatigue
use to dream of being like Johnny Bench
in the navy I wasn’t on the bench
I was a star during those times at sea
In France I even spoke a little French
my time out at sea I truly felt free
those days are gone yet I’m reliving them
poetry has been that light at the end
it has nothing to do with my brain stem
I admit this is my life no pretend
I have lived on a bench for a few years
it felt that way yet I never shed tears
Copyright © Robert Heemstra | Year Posted 2013
Hibernation collects the highest rank
calmness, walloping in the coolest hole
sleep possesses wealth in the biggest bank
activity in a minimal role
tough muscles on old age can't play a prank
whatever height not yet reached, stop the pole
to weary bones and a weak mind, be frank
to heal already found sores on each sole
it is the time for time to have mercy
the end romance still needs that approval
productivity has made life spicy
relaxation, ready to shape it oval
what remains to Life, so cool and icy
as death waits to have a permanent val.
Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2016
No need to brag
Jeter #2 was born to play and win; now that’s swag
For twenty years he has been the face of the MLB
Games played in 2123
Scored runs 1569
He won his 5th and final championship in 2009
One of the greatest shortstops that would ever be
He was 1 of 37 players with 1000 RBI
Jeter had five Silver Slugger Awards, two Hank Aaron Awards, a Roberto Clemente Award, and had 118 runs
On his face for 20 seasons is a permanent grin that shows he’s having fun
Jeter had 248 more hits than any other player
He may have been known as a singles hitter
A playoff game (158) over the course of his career and owns a .308 BA with 20 HR and 61 RBI, scoring 111 runs and racking up 200 hits
No steroids just natural God given athletics that’s legit
The winner of five Gold Gloves and 358 career stolen bases
So many opponents and haters he leaves them with tear filled eyes and permanent grinned faces
The idea in baseball is to score more runs than the other guy, which is how Jeter earned his living
Respect is definitely earned not given
“Derek has been the benchmark for character and class in a baseball uniform. He has inspired a generation to play baseball the way it was meant to be played. It has been an honor to play against him. On a lighter note this means two things: no more clutch hits against the Rays AND, another pooling of funds to buy a Yankee a farewell gift! Cheers to him”
— Rays third baseman Evan Longoria
Copyright © Jeffrey Lee | Year Posted 2014
At first you’re free to spend your days
To roam the earth, if wealth obeys.
Choose not to do those daily tasks
Instead, out in the sun to bask.
Each day as new adventure’s sought
Regret seeps in, you really ought…
To do something more with each year
To waste time is your greatest fear.
As you slow down thoughts will unfurl
What mark did you make on this world?
A new path lays before you now
To make life matter, you must vow…
“I will not stop. I’ll carry on
Until my final breath is drawn”
Copyright © Betty Janko | Year Posted 2016
Best in retirement.
There comes a joy, a contentment not had before in life.
The struggles in life about over, the ordeals mostly gone.
Sweet surrender it is called but it’s more like victory.
Victory over life not had years before.
New friends become familiar, old ones more dear.
For some it is to know steadfastly they are going home.
Not to an earthly dwelling place but an eternal home.
To Loves eternity without question.
Copyright © John Hardison | Year Posted 2016