The leaves, they turn their
rust and gold
& The Autumn cold sets in
I'll be turning the big 40
When October comes again
It's crazy to me that I've lived this long
and in another 10, it'll be half a century
I call myself an old man now,
But I'll REALLY be old then
A mother's love,
wings of a dove,
will cover me.
Starting my life,
with a midwife,
a baby cries.
Growing older,
always for me,
loving shoulder.
Life without you,
I cry daily,
so very blue.
On Growing Older
Sometimes my steps are steady,
Sometimes my hands shake.
Sometimes my memory falters,
And I make some sad mistake.
Sometimes I hear you talking
But I do not understand.
Just remember that I love you
And I do the best I can.
My skin is sagged and wrinkled.
I look a little like an Elf.
My eyesight's getting hazy,
Sometimes I repeat myself.
But I still love the beauty,
Of the big old open sky
And Precious little children,
Sometimes at night I cry,
I look back on my efforts
Did I do the things I should
But I find a gentle comfort,
That I did the best I could.
I am weary but the knowledge
That strikes the sweetest cord.
I can lay aside my worries
And leave them with the Lord.
There is a way to tell if we are just growing older
or truly growing old…
or so I have been told….
If we’re still having fun each year we are just growing older
when we stop having fun…that’s when we grow old.
Growing older is a carousel
of highs and lows, each spin a memory, each turn a change.
It’s the morning ache in places you never thought could hurt,
the pizza you once devoured now a restless night’s companion.
Your vision softens, sounds blur,
and the quiet hum of life’s smaller details becomes elusive.
Doctors' visits and pill bottles mark the passing months,
while hair thins, and skin loosens where once strength resided.
Nights grow lighter, dreams grow heavier
with visions of a younger self, running through the past.
The faces of friends and family fade, some taken too soon,
others by the slow hand of time, all leaving empty chairs.
Yet gratitude remains a quiet current,
a whispered song beneath the noise of change.
For the laughter still brightens days, the tear still falls,
reminding us of what remains, what we hold close.
There's more rust in my joints than ever.
My bones sound like an old screen door,
and my knees predict the weather
better than any app.
Give me elastic waistbands, soft slippers,
and the creak of a recliner
that groans every time I sit.
Bring on the grandkids with sticky fingers
leaving fingerprints on the walls,
and loud toys that play the same song
again and again.
Pile on the mismatched furniture,
the frayed edges, the cracked plates,
and the joy of holding on to anything
that brings back a memory.
Let my friends swap stories about their ailments,
sit on the porch with their cardigans,
and say, "Remember when?"
Let mornings be slow, with aching backs,
glasses misplaced, and coffee that’s gone cold.
Remind me of the fortune of old photos,
the wealth of crumpled coupons,
and the art of navigating
the labyrinth of nostalgia.
Forget the resolutions,
just give me the constant hum of a well-lived life.
I’ll take the bottom of the cookie jar,
the forgotten, the outgrown,
the simple things that bring comfort,
one gentle turn
on the slow-spinning wheel of age.
Life is passing by
motivation is fading
life goals diminish
I am so often here these days:
sitting,
looking, thinking.
I crave stillness,
but things are always on the move,
are never going to stop.
Perhaps it is a condition
of growing older,
to be afraid of change,
to be afraid of what change means.
But I still sit here,
still watch, still ask,
over and over,
where these waters are going.
Becoming wiser
looking for the positive
thankful for each day
Hairline receding slightly
Waistline a little thicker
Gravity winning the battle
A few centimetres conceded
Even when walking proud
Hearing less acute
Necessitating the TV turned up loud
Eyes needing brighter light
Small print now a challenge
A world through four lenses
No longer two, especially at night
Joints a little rustier
Movement less fluid
Skin a little saggier
“Less firm” more polite
Settling in grooves and furrows
No longer snapping back
White and random hair sprouting
On head, from nose, in ears and on chin
The body the battleground scars of advancing years
A war we will never win
The mind and mood another matter
Age the superhero variable
Calmer, more sanguine
Experience and wisdom to the fore
A knowing wink and smile
Having done it, got the t shirt before
Random knowledge twinned with insight
TV quizzes a breeze
Navigating life’s necessary turbulence
With greater confidence and ease
Youth is not to envy
Advancing years we should embrace
The folly of the young
Firmly in the rear view mirror
We stand as time flies past us
Knowing a more contented future awaits
Growing older
I remember the time when teenage knocked my life's door
Just like the wave of emotions reached my still shore
From loving to be with people around
To living in the room with no one's sound
From sharing everything to hiding
I have seen my life sliding
From crying at smallest things to hiding tears
From running away to facing my fears
I have been a little more strong
Learnt the art of judging right or wrong
With each and evey rising dawn
I felt new colours in life's picture drawn
It's finished, all in heard,
sleepless night, all come around,
headache, also landed,
for the first time, my mind is troubled,
immediately, I started preparing,
drawing the maps and planning,
my heart and mind keeps burning,
so little time to go, I'm still running.
It's finished, all I heard,
all lose end, I try mend,
my health begin to blick red,
for the first time, my mind is troubled,
how to get a job keeps coming,
and my CV is not improving,
my crown head is boiling,
so little time to go, I'm still running.
It's finished, all heard,
all allowances are to be accumulated,
hunger strike that time started,
for the first time, my mind is troubled,
cup cake keep calling,
parent, project, pastor stirring,
stagnant, I think I forgot the bearing,
so little time to go, I'm still running.
It's finished, all I heard,
world is not worked to work,
walk in the word, find your worth,
work on your worth to walk on the world.
I used to be a nocturnal troubadour
Playing a fair amount of songs that years forgot
With a guitar nestled on my lap
I would whistle while playing until my fingers bled
I laugh at the call for intermission. A pause declared
I walk over to get a bite to eat
And to talk with some of the other performers
They all agreed that God put them on Earth to play
I was placed on Earth to make people smile
This life I have been given is one thing I ponder
Holding my chin up to the clouds
I grew nine inches over the course of one Summer
All the better to look into your eyes
I fell in love four times in ten years
Where do I go from here?
I will have to get back to you on that
Sleep, eat, poetry, repeat
That is all I need to know
I know that I’m old and cantankerous,
and can be kind of loud and quite rancorous.
But in my heart lives a child
playing rough, running wild,
or waltzing in something more glamorous.
So when I’m crotchety, ornery, or delirious,
or perhaps being playful or serious,
please respect and not s;
I’m worth so much bigger,
for my life is a story mysterious.
Now remember as I’m getting older
I am so much more than my folder;
the stories I hide
in my heart deep inside
are more than I often can shoulder.
Of Minds and Growing Older
By: Tom Wright
5/26/99
A fragile thing, our minds.
Where once they flooded with memories of our past.
Our recall, becomes with age,
that mere trickle of things we've deemed important,
not necessarily happening last.
we're unable to unlock
and purge from darkness, one unwanted thought.
So, we often attempt to sort,
those things best left alone
that life has brought.
Then, given time,
our minds often become in total disarray.
We fail to recognize a loved one's face,
recall a thought, or lives spent together,
or know the time of day.
At this time of life
we see those seemingly doomed to sit and stare.
Incapable of sharing thoughts
and unable to express their feelings,
living life from bed or chair.
While our minds
will never comprehend why these things must be.
Extend a kind word, a warm hand, a hug---but never pity.
See them as God's, "Lightening Rods",
storing and radiating love to those like me.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.