Best Retirement Poems
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.
Written 1ST February 2018. ( POTD 2/2/2018)
For POTD Poetry contest
Sponsored by Richard Lamoureux.
I remember receiving a comment congratulating me and I must be honest was gobsmacked to receive the honour of POTD.
From the comments I received I could see that many on soup could identify with some of the things I had mentioned in my poem.
The general feeling to sum up was ( GETTING ON IN YEARS SUCKS BIG TIME )
so we really have to make the most of what time we have left on earth.
P.S. have read your verse 'Broken People'
When I was down in the dumps
I longed to be away from the din of the world
And a quiet place I sought
Nature has always been my refuge
Amid the clump of trees where the wind caresses the leaves
Where birds twitter and trill their songs
Like a hermit I sat, my eyes closed, my body lazing
My mind, open to the soft vibrations around
I took a deep breath inhaling the fragrance of flowers
And let the quietude envelop my being
Gliding through the layers of my consciousness
Dancing to the beats of my inner symphony
I let myself swim in the ocean of stillness
I felt the tranquil touch of an unseen presence
I heard a caring voice from somewhere
A faint voice quite reassuring, so near
Within me the wider Life emerged
And the lesser life finally submerged
I experienced true joy within
Peace filled, drowning all my tribulations
And I knew it was heaven sent!
_________________________________
.19.2022
A Quiet Place Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mystic Rose Rose
Gene stood. Skyscraper demanding. Cold steel.
Thirty-five hard years. Over now. Just like that.
Corrugated box. Family photo. Timex watch.
Bitter coffee.
Stale sweat.
He walked out. Sun blaze. Fireball. Air thick.
Sidewalk. Familiar corner. Man there.
Black skin. Weathered face. Cardboard sign.
Gene stopped. Eyes met. Silent understanding.
"Seen you," the man said.
Gene nodded. "Fifteen and a half years."
"Never spoke."
"No. Never did."
Gene sat. Concrete cracked. Chill. Hands trembling.
"Lost everything," he said, eyes downcast.
Shame heavy. Guilt girded.
The man waited. Silent. Eyes knowing.
"Wife. Cancer. Kids ghosted. Job now too."
Gene's voice cracked. "Wasted. Empty. Life."
The man reached down. Pulled out a bottle.
"Drink?" he asked.
Gene nodded. Took it. Swigged deep.
Bourbon burned. Good burn. Real.
"First honest thing. In years."
They sat. Shadows lengthened. City hummed.
Bottle passed. Back. Forth. No words.
Gene breathed. First time in years.
Bygone dreams. Flickered. Misty.
Husband. Father. Provider. Lost Purpose.
Night fell. Stars peeked. Traffic thinned.
Gene stood. Legs unsteady. Mind unclear
"Thanks," he said,
The man nodded. "Tomorrow comes" –
Gene stared out. Horizon blurred. “That was yesterday.”
Street light flickered. Old worn dress shoes.
A sound.
Empty bottle.
Spinning.
Parting gift. Timex.
Ticking...
Rusted, but well oiled and continuously in use, heaven’s gate.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Contest: One, One Liner
Sponsor: Rick Parise
Placed 2nd
© 9th November 2016
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.
The dear old pastor had occupied the same pulpit for years and years;
He preached fire, damnation and The Hereafter scorching his congregants ears!
He had baptized hordes of kids and officiated when they married,
And comforted many mourning souls when their loved-ones were buried!
He suffered through stormy sessions at the monthly meetings of The Board,
And withstood the bickering of sisters of The Women's Guild, utterly bored!
Some of his flock were as stubborn as army mules and were quite contrary!
He faced challenging situations that they didn't teach about in seminary!
He confided with his long-suffering wife proclaiming, "This is the pits!"
And after serving the Lord nigh on thirty years he decided to call it quits.
He advised The Board that he was retiring due to health issues, you see.
(Truth was, he quipped, "I was sick of them and they were sick of me!")
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
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
By JTCurtis
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
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
Write poetry
Just for the love of it
No need to peddle or hustle
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
Battered ego
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
Read on air by invitation ~ July 24, 2020 'LATE NIGHT POETS'
AP: 1st place 2025, 3rd place 2020
Submitted on May 28, 2018 for FROM NOW ON POETRY CONTEST sponsored by NAYDA IVETTE NEGRON - RANKED 9TH
New Future Of The
Internet
Cable cost are up
too high
You turned to the
internet and so have
I
My Youtube channel
is the way to go
Now I can even make
video shows
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
too
Antique barn yards
and tractor pulls
just for you
Aviation, taxidermy,
and crafty wood
works
Viewwithme Youtube
has all the quirks
The historical homes
make a great tour
Contest and oxen
pulls are never a
bore
Animal friends, I
haven’t forgotten
you
I have horses, dogs,
cows and sheep too
Plenty of petting
pens and milking for
you
And a simple click
is all you have to
do
A lot of shows with
a mix for all
Like demolition
derby or a stunt so
tall
So if you dropped
the cable and you
have a need
I have three
channels for you to
see
By: Doris Anne
Beaulieu
https://www.youtube.com/user/Viewwithme
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.
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.
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.
~TH~
Relinquishing the time clocks of the past,
Emerging from the glory and the grind,
Transformed throughout those years that went so fast,
Inspired by dreams, you leave those days behind.
Rebirth awaits with chances fresh and new.
Embark upon bold journeys; bravely go.
Ephemeral, sweet life still beckons you,
So plant your seeds and watch your future grow.
May 13, 2018, entered in Brian Strand's Mid-May Standard Contest