Don’t let yourself grow old, always think yourself young
Whatever your age, life has just begun
Don’t let anything get you down
Try to wear a smile and not a frown
Remember when you think you are nothing how special you are
You are amazing, whatever you do, you’re a star
You are strong enough to do what you want to do
Don’t leave it, do it today – for today is for you
Whatever doubts you have in your mind
When you make a start will vanish, you’ll find
Don’t let yourself get lost and behind
And in all you do be caring and kind
Age is just a number, a state of mind
If something in life stops you from living, you’ll find
If you feel inside that life has just begun
And whatever age you are – think yourself young
Not all old people are wise.
Remember fools too grow old.
It is a gift to grow old
Sadly ,so many never get that chance
Taken too young
Their lives merely a glance
It is a gift to grow old
Often taken for granted along the way
To be blessed to live a long life
It is simply a gift….just being able to stay!
May we all be blessed to grow old in love…
doing so can certain fears assuage….
Although Age does not protect us from love
As Anais Nin says:
Love, to some extent, protects us from age.
While flowers grow old,
I will grow old with you too,
'Till death do us part.
Let's grow old with gold,
Life hidden in various folds...
Lovable moments preserved in hearts,
Some hard lessons saved as drafts...
Generally relationships take time
But some bonds instantly shine...
I have a mix of both the worlds,
Few are a straight line and some are curves...
At last, everything & everyone will become old,
Remember that experiences cannot be sold...
Love, live and laugh louder
Care deeper and respect people...
Time can heal the old burns,
Enjoy the walk, don't just run...
Essence of love is in growing old together,
Give each other wings to feel the pleasure...
Whether it's a rattle or a soft toy
Old stuff gives immense joy...
In surge of becoming latest and new,
Grow old with gold views...
Written by~
Rashmi Kaushik
#MyDynamicEmotions
When did I grow old
Did it happen overnight
Was l young when l went to bed
Became old at the stroke of midnight
When did the lines on my face appear
My face and body start to droop
Sleep become a confusion
My favourite meal become sandwiches and soup
When did aches and pains take over my being
Turn into my main topic of conversation
My memory and ears start to fail me
Hindering my communication
When did I lose spontaneity
Start to worry more about the danger
When did I wake up
With a stranger ……
I was asked to write a poem
About when I’d grow old…..
But really that’s the joke,
For I already am, old and terribly cold.
And looking back I realize
How time has passed me by.
It’s like a flower really,
It forms buds, blooms, and dries,
And then eventually each dies.
I always joke to find some remedy,
I’ve just got one foot in the grave.
With apologies the famous comedy,
Which gave me so much fun.
But seriously now that I am old,
And lost most of my family too,
I can only ponder on the bloom
That will soon wither and stew.
Still, that’s not exactly true.
For I truly believe that life
Is but a passage over a bridge.
From this life to a better one we strive.
Hopefully…..
AS I GROW OLD
As I grow old
I'll never miss another boat, or train, or flight
Because
Silence becomes a pocket book of fat cash
I know where to put small change.
As I grow old, I behold
The bigger picture in life is the eye
Not that eye stuck on itself
Not that eye color blind
Not that eye afraid of depth and height.
Women are the eyes that weep for humanity
When we're together; though far apart, men conspire we're rich
What makes women rich?
We are forgiving, nurturing, and
When all else fails, we are flashlight in the dark.
As I grow old, it appears
My age won't bury a heart so young
Who would confound a butterfly?
And what is a home without the breath of God?
As I grow old, I behold
The bigger picture in life unites
The core of man cannot stand alone, and
For that reason, we have two eyes;
One of depth and faces forward.
*
Keeping death and exile daily before thine eyes, with all else that men deem terrible. But more than death throw your pity toward Yahweh. And those that govern the universe with goodness and justice. Than you may pass by the perfect understanding.
If I might choose, I would be found doing some deed of true humanity. Let me hope at lease for this. Learning to deal more wisely. With the dealing of life. For all I do is write poems about death. For its is the only way to pay my debt.
Now the souls gather out of hell's bath of sadness. But men grow old with girls who were so tender in life. And those who were to tend to the others. Now look at your life, well don't bother, why do you hold your heart so dear. Even when you know that death is near! So fear not young life, your death is the beginning of a new light. Now I can lay down my sleep and my life.
I’d give you my breath,
I’d break records
I’d plunge to my death-
I’ll write you songs and sing them to you over intercoms
I’d pierce the moon with diamonds and gold and tell it to rain on you till your old and hold you in my arms and sing you those songs to your FACE
IVE GOT NOTHING TO LOSE AND YOU TO GAIN
HOLD THIS UMBRELLA WITH ME IN THE RAIN
OR LAY IN MY BED And listen to the rain
hit the tin roof over our heads
I’ll paint your toes—— and who knows
I
maybe I’ll let you paint mine
L
I just want to be with you forever
Baby I’m tryin
Every day the traffic home the breath I take when you’re on the phone
A ton of s fall of my shoulders —
like- let’s just kick back when we get older
Somewhere in the Florida sun
Well wear hoodies at night, sit outside and listen to our wind chimes - it’ll be fun
And all these plans could change tomorrow
So if I see you go another way,, I’ll just follow
Because it doesn’t matter where we go
Our souls together- ....that’s home !
And when we fade into the sky our children will keep us alive and continue to walk down the path we paved
Because of one little hope that we saved...
It's true that one day we'll grow old
Maybe we'd be like pack of cigarettes
Stashed near the cupboard
Laying near the broomstick
Bundled together with worn-out ropes
Like cables that are patched with tapes
Walking around with sticks long laden with thoughts
Accumulated for ages and Sun-beaten
Maybe we'd be tan already from life's sun-heat
Or Wed feel like old locks whose keys have been lost
They say we might be like cupboards with worn hinges
Or broken bottles on dumpsites
Or maybe we'd be like car garages
With old tools laying around
Or bolts whose turns have gone out of turns
What they say seem to scare me
That being old isn't much of a blessing as we'd thought
Should I stay and grow stricken in age
What if feebleness sets in?
Would this life still be meaningful to me?
Oh! What if life is as beautiful as a blossoming tree
Like nocturnal flowers by the river side
What a sight in site that would be
Yes, I'd love that; growing old would be
Meaningful
The fading ancient sun casts long shadows before me,
as I shuffle slowly and sluggishly down asymmetrical lanes.
How age mellows me like ripe watermelon, squeezing me
until all my ambrosial juices run acidulously dry as dust.
Unsatisfied desire, mental torment and general malaise
conquer my better moods of love, devotion and quietude.
Straggling with widespread dishevelment and disillusions
I try in vain to set an orderly pattern to my straying aims,
hoping some guardian angel were to take my shaking hands
to lead me onwards steadily towards some well defined goal.
Mark my furrowed forehead, tap solidly at my potential energy
fill my withering wrinkles with some sense or empirical reasoning,
but at least give me one essential gift, that a grumbler I'll never be.
Oh
I feel so...
The heaviness in my body,
The darkness of my soul,
The sight of my eyes,
The years I grow old.
Oh
I feel so...
Stupid and hopeless,
For being pure inside, heart,
To be known as prettiest,
But feels better as nerd.
Oh
I feel so...
Sad to be friendly and positive,
Sometimes, I feel dumb,
Bad for myself to sail all the ships
To get broke by brokers,
And feel numb.
Oh
I feel so...
Crash and smashed,
Torn and broken,
Feels like a potato,
Over cut and soaken.
My eyes
Grow old
As if with
Her hair
Bright and white
In the summer air
Soft and light
An autumn evening hue
Warm and comforting
A winters fire glow
Spongy and curly
A spring day walk
My eyes
They don’t register
The changes
Like my body does the seasons
Only when she
Cuts it
Do my eyes
See the changes
She is younger
Again
Along with my eyes
And the beauty
I see
In the seasons
Of a year
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