Best Ripe Old Age Poems
Every family has them
These unsettling times these misunderstandings
Times when many things come into play
In most cases these wee spats are soon over and forgotten
But sometimes differences run deeper
Because of other factors
Such as jealousy, middle child syndrome personality
It's only human nature at play
The necessity for all to find our place
In the overall scheme of life
To establish one's self in the pecking order
And accepting it without malice, without jealousy
A hard lesson to learn when we're brand new at he game
Always suspecting that siblings
Are the ones receiving preferential treatment
In reality, they are reacting in exactly the same matter
Trying their best to learn the ropes
To understand what life means what life is all about
But we never do have all the answers
Even if we survive those uncertain early years
And live to the ripe old age of thirty
Well that is what old age is when you're a teenager
Please be assured, you WILL get through
And be a well adjusted adult
Red roses true
Skies so blue
Lovers doing what lovers do
Chocolates and confessions
of eternal love
Building up hopes and dreams
I, behind the counter
At the ripe old age of 69
Watch all the youth
Filled with hope and desire
Love is like clouds in the carefree sky
They all stare and thrust
Hoping to latch onto a dream
Reality is not so kind
Illusions die on the ides
Kisses left unfulfilled
Roses with more thorns than hope
Wine so sour, blood is in flavor
Ah, but for now they are all happy
Holding hands and bouquets
Pink roses and red carnations
The road they know not to damnation
Who am I? To spoil a dream
Who am I? To laugh when they scream
You see love was a knife
That murdered me long, long ago
I may breathe, but the death possessed me
The life all but left me
So tonight as lovers kiss and fondle
I wish them well, from far over yonder
I kicked out the chair
The rope taunt and tight
As my last breath
Whispered to my long lost love
Good night
10~14~2016 Oh, Yes Please Dare
Trust in love and just let go…
I will show you a view through a rainbow.
Yay! You took a chance and let go of the reins.
You are a rare soul and a treasure to behold.
A human still brave enough to risk others’ disdain.
You made a choice to accompany me, so bold.
For there is no excitement or joy without risk of pain.
You may see sights which support your wildest dreams I’m told.
one who has not failed
not willing to take a risk
may live to a ripe old age
so safe yet mundane
what drags they bore me so
dare to see through a rainbow
Three Style II – Poetry contest
He walked into my office, business in hand,
In denim baggy overalls, a plaid shirt, white painters cap,
and grandpa's old white leather orthopedic shoes.
If I ever get to the ripe old age of 88,
I want to be this lone wolf silhouette of a man.
A slow gait with frailty of movement.
Each step carefully orchestrated and contemplated.
Making one worry the next may become a fall.
But he moves on without even a stumble.
Steadfast stature and posture braced on any lowly perch.
Outer coat showing gaps of missing muscle and mass.
Paws and face forlornly exposed with past battles scorned.
All affairs in perfect order, the next move oft anticipated.
Irises glossy white shadowed with blue wisdom and mystery.
Draped with curtains and folds boldly saying "I am."
Negotiations begin with silence in wait of movement.
Tail wagging intently, teeth exposed only when he smiles.
No bite to his bark, he needn't growl nor gnarl.
Few words, saying only what needs to be heard.
Walking away after a handshake, flash of teeth, and a wink.
09/12/17
I have a little something that I want you to see.
It’s a sample of great-grandpa’s secret recipe.
Blend of ingredients in the right combination;
hidden formula passed down to my generation.
Great-grandpa was a man having great longevity.
He lived to the ripe old age of one hundred and three.
This stuff was a contributor without any doubt.
When he was cremated, the fire wouldn’t go out!
Grandpa took over after great-grandpa passed away.
That’s why the legacy continues up to today.
The neighbors didn’t show the slightest inhibition.
Because grandpa made big bucks during Prohibition!
Another generation passed, and my pa would say:
“My son, it’s time to make some more of that stuff today.
But please boy, bring out the still without making a sound.
Somebody told me there’s some G-boys coming around!”
So my friend, I want to make a toast to you right here.
May you be filled with happiness without pain or fear.
So down the hatch with this stuff that I want you to try.
L’chaim, happy landing, here’s some mud in your eye!
joyful song filled my heart
courtesy of our family’s music man
even after mother passed
Dad was still strong and healthy
lived to a ripe old age
giving consent to unplug the respirator
three siblings cried together
that joyful song
Dad’s clarinet and sax
now heard only by the angels
silence dwells within me now
time passes, but the musical void hits hard
life has never been the same
after Dad
after death
AD joined the cherub band
twinkling with rhythms of Big Band era songs
heaven’s stars mark the path to his glory
AD stands for "After Dad"
A Dedication To He That This Old Poet Truly Admires
Hardened was his sad heart when a mere lad-
Never a kind word, all seemed very bad-
Born a true and strong athlete to behold
Into slavery and dark he was sold,
Emerged an honest man of mighty girth
A living Samson, a man of true worth.
As gentle friend one could truly thank God
Woe to those that felt his wrath or his rod!
Such great prowess one should never deny.
Always willing to give others fair try.
Stone-hard product of American shores
With hand axe, a slayer of savage boars
A majestic hunter of no small fame
Savage man or beast he could and did tame,
A hero returning from the great War
Proof as was seen, his many battle scars.
Never had he ever failed to show might
victor in every hand to hand fight!
Such great prowess one should never deny.
Always willing to give others fair try.
Never one to fear world's darkest powers-
A hard worker, no lover of idle hours-
Racing to do that which others so fear
Holding mother and siblings very dear,
Lover of horses, cats and faithful dogs
A Paul Bunyan one stroke, splitting huge logs.
Rock steady and never once defeated
punishing those who had his friends cheated!
Such great prowess one should never deny.
Always willing to give others fair try.
Rewarded to live to a ripe old age-
Some called hero, others a wise old sage-
Myself, I just loved him as my best friend
True chap that is faithful until the end,
Bright red roses adorn his earthen bed
none daring to walk paths he had once tread.
His life and memory are treasured gold
kind of brave man, I long to be when old!
Such great prowess one should never deny.
Always willing to give others fair try.
Robert J. Lindley,
July 11th, 1993
Rhyme, (Dedication poem)
Note- Presented as was originally composed, no edits to the verses(body of the work).
I was tempted but then I thought may be best to leave as was felt
and written the first go....
Added the word - "Old" - , to the Title, as seemed fitting since that describes the current state of the author
When Searching Depths Of Mind Questions Its Own Sanity
Go to the green, green blades of grass
Speak and watch the sunbeams obey
There in the mountain top, a frigid pass
What beast did brave boy David slay.
In rainbow-cast deserts wind swift blows
Its flying roses into an old silver jar
O'but nobody that tragic tale knows
Why the hell we are where we are.
What on earth do we darest to desire
Golden halls and living to ripe old age
To not gasp when others admire
Some vanishing letters on a torn page.
When spirit fights to soothes the aching soul.
Just who fired the shot from grassy knoll.
Robert J. Lindley, Sonnet
April 27th 1974
Many dictators come to a well-deserved fate
Brutally assassinated or dying at their own hands,
Consider these more recent promoters of hate
In third world countries and distant foreign lands.
Hitler, Stalin, Mussolini immediately come to mind,
But Mao, “Papa Doc” and Castro died from ill health
They, like too many, lived to a ripe-old age, we find,
And too many lived in opulence, off ill-gotten wealth.
Nicolae Ceausescu of Romania is a notable exception
He was executed by firing squad along with his wife.
All these men were evil incarnate, it's my perception,
It is my opinion they should’ve all been denied life.
Written December 4, 2022
You would think at this ripe old age of eight-six
Love and romance would no longer be foremost in my thoughts
Well that is so very far from the truth, it's laughable
This is what I had envisioned when I was a much younger lad
Always thought love would be much less important to me
How wrong could one be... it is more important than ever
Love never leaves us... we can still smell the fields of flowers
Still revel in the sunshine of a warm summer day
Love is everywhere we look
It is on the faces of everyone we pass on the street
Some are harder than others to decipher but it's there
The trials of life can mask it but if you dig deep enough
Love is at the core of everything we do and say
All we need do is recognize it and it will be ours
Love is life itself
I used to claim, I'm just getting old til
a friend said, "no, seasoned", with a gentle scold.
It does sound better. I must admit, but am still
pondering which spices fit?
Was I seasoned by the sea with its salty air?
Am I spiced by my anger which at times flares?
Was I peppered by my individual journey, and all
of those people who influenced me?
Are those milder spices acquired with time, like
a touch of coriander, or a pinch of thyme?
I'm hoping to acquire a taste for sage as I
could certainly use some at this ripe old age.
Retirement Plan
Dr. James E. Martin
©February, 2013
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.
Last Of The First Elements
(H) Hydrogen is sweet and gentle by design
A nucleus with an electric and positive charge
Found everywhere in nature at large
It lives an ordinary life in time and space
On the periodic table, it simply waits
As #1 in line to start, begins the chart, for other elements
Very stable, not too many threats come from hydrogen
(Uuo) Ununoctium on the other hand, is one of the latest
Of the most recent discoveries as #118 on the table
The last element is #103 "Lawrencium
(we'll save that for another day.)
(It's on a lower chart)
These elements are as unstable as a fable
Precarious things, to say the least, on the chemistry table
Only existing for some milliseconds at a time
Since Ununoctium was created, not pure or found in nature
Perhaps it’s time to start
A new life for itself as #1 on a new elemental chart
Of invented elements
Born in a nuclear reactor from calcium ions and radioactive californium
A most unstable baby from birth
It lives to the ripe old age of 0.89 milliseconds
But what a wonderful life it leads
Don’t ask it on a date
Or say anything about its atomic weight
Too much drama there…. There it is!....There it isn’t…. Unpredictable
It looks a little like this when naked on the shell
1s2
2s2 2p6
3s2 3p6 3d10
4s2 4p6 4d10 4f14
5s2 5p6 5d10 5f14
6s2 6p6 6d10
7s2 7p6
It is simply divinely designed with a lovely configuration
Not exactly a split atom, or personality with a disposition
Being here or there
To be precise, it is something rather nice… when in existence
Created on 12/03/14 for -Periodic Table of Elements – Poetry Contest
On My Eighty Fifth Birthday
Another Birthday…I’m still alive
Never thought that I’d survive
To the ripe old age of Eighty Five!
But here I am…feisty still
Even though I’m over the hill!
Don’t count me out...Don’t ring that bell
I’m still here and raising hell!
Had a few blimps along the way
But I’m not leaving, I’m here to stay
Still have plans…I’m not done yet
I may do things I may regret
But I’ll have fun doing it
You can bet!
It matters not how old you are
You can dream your dream
Or follow your star
Your flesh may fail you
Your steps may be slow
More and more wrinkles start to show
But there is one thing I surely know
A man isn’t judged by how he looked
Or the size of his fortune or pocketbook
The greatest legacy he leaves behind
Isn’t intelligence or a fertile mind
But the love he gave to his family and friends
A heart full of love always transcends
Fame and fortune in the end
So Happy Birthday again to me
How many more…..?
We’ll just have to see
In the meantime friends
You’ll be hearing from me!
Copyright©2013 Beatrice Boyle
(All rights reserved)
My intuition flew up to the sunrise today and saw my third eye looking on. It saw the bright
oarnge poppies. It saw the setting sun. My intuition rode on the back of a dark horse. It saw
death pass by but was scared with stage fright. It saw me meet a thousand people in a
gestational period. Sight of a rebellious man, a beggar, and a steeple. It looked inside but
saw no people- yet all, but one. It saw my victory over birth, it saw my Mondays escape the
moon, it saw my childhood play, my rebellious teenage days, now, and ripe old age oozing
into Heaven's sky on a crimson ladder- up to God where- I sat and read to God- my letter-
from my sweet, blue cherabim--