Long Oldsters Poems
Long Oldsters Poems. Below are the most popular long Oldsters by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Oldsters poems by poem length and keyword.
The world is changing so rapidly
I feel like a chameleon who has lost the race
I am changing as hard and fast as I can
And still I get left behind in swamps of confusion
Our children are Cyber geniuses,
Clicking away in front of their flat screen gods,
unaware that families are supposed to eat supper together
grabbing a sandwich the next day at noon when they wake
Our parents have forgotten they are in charge
Attached to I-phones they think must be constantly attended to
Where are the listeners? Where are the conversations?
Where are the families? Our churches are filled with eighty year olds.
The world is changing.
Families have forgotten to be close to each other.
The oldsters are dying.
I am a chameleon, left in the swamp of confusion.
Not gas, not oil, but leadership
Yes, it's leadership pipelines we lack
Young people coming up through the ranks
For their mentors' devotion giving thanks
It's every individual for himself today
That's the internet and social media way
Instead of bringing us together
Instead of inspiring us
All this 'technology' misinforms and divides us
So it's up to us oldsters who still know how to do it
To direct these youngsters, channel their raw vigor
For we sorely lack leaders, no Buffets, no Reagans
Let's get our youth in the pipelines ~ pulling leadership's triggers
Topics of conversation seem to change as we approach maturity.
As kids we talked of love - now it's lumbago and social security!
It once was enlightening to simply discuss the weather,
But now it's a litany of their ills when oldsters get together!
When a teen we bragged about that first voluptuous kiss.
Now all we can do is talk about such and lamentably reminisce!
Girls whispered amongst themselves and cast a furtive glance,
At the high school "hunk" pining for a torrid romance!
In our courting days, sweet talk we'd whisper in the other's ear.
Now it seems we must yell to be heard unlike in yesteryear!
As married folks we debated about money, bills and kids,
Exasperating table-pounding sessions where we'd flip our lids!
Seems that no matter where senior brethren congregate,
With each other their aches and pains they must enunciate,
Discussing the woes of arthritis, phlebitis and laryngitis,
Bronchitis, bursitis, gingivitis, dermatitis and gastritis!
I reckon I could simply say, "Gee, you're looking swell!"
Then perhaps upon these gloomy topics they might not dwell.
I enjoy repartee with folks about religion, politics and sports,
But talk of doom and gloom leaves me sorta outta sorts!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
They played "Tie a Yellow Ribbon" at the nursing home
People in their eighties clapped and sang along.
I paused nearby and listened before proceeding on my way
It was a ray of sun in a cloudy dismal day.
They played "Tie a Yellow Ribbon" when the POWs came home
Vietnam behind them, the eagle had long flown
From 'hell in session' to a divided land
They deserved our thanks, so strike up the eighties band.
(Chorus)
Tie a yellow ribbon round the old oak tree
It's been many years, but heart's stay free
The world is getting smaller, friends have come and gone
Sometimes a song can help a weary soul hold on.
They played "tie a yellow ribbon' for freedom in Hong Kong
Funny how a romance tune became a protest song.
We've already forgotten those romantics in the street
A song can't beat a rifle, no matter how upbeat.
They played "tie a yellow ribbon" when our hostages came home
Women wore one in the Civil War when the cavalry was gone
Home is where the heart is, and if oldsters can laugh and share
The rest of us should regroup and try to self-repair.
the oldsters were the ones who were predictable
Aunt Marjorie would bring something to sell
If you said “no thank you” she would try to guilt you into it
“I will give them to you if you cannot afford them.”
She is gone now.
Uncle Ronald and Aunt Donna had no reason to come to the reunion.
They sat by themselves, and talked to no one, not even each other.
We tried to park Neal in their corner, but he did not stay there long.
Neal is the most boring family member of any family to ever be born.
Cousin Neal rattles off stories about himself in a weird monotone voice.
Following one person or another from table to table.
Desperate for attention, a bachelor who remained single until he was sixty.
The marriage did not last two weeks.
Uncle Bill was one of the highlights of the family reunion.
He told wildly outrageous stories that had all of us laughing.
Even if we had heard them before, they were still funny.
He is gone now too.
There is no sense in going back to the reunion.
The only ones left are people I do not recognize, Neal, Ronald and Donna.
A waste of my time, and no one appreciates my chocolate chip cookies anyway.
The seashore is a wondrous stage, for in the sun's delight,
I sit and watch a play unfold- it's there within my sight!
Those beauties, young with golden tans, demurely sashay by
In search of those admiring eyes that peep so deft and sly.
While young dudes with their virile forms and sun-bleached wavy hair,
Strut back and forth so confident with sort of haughty air.
Small children, filling up their pails, build castles made of sand,
While fathers take a break from rest to lend a helping hand.
And mothers being what they are- in their protective lots,
Are ever rubbing suntan cream on freckled, sunburned tots.
Those chunky mid-life guys and gals packed tight in swim attire
Add so much fullness to the scene, for those to see, admire!
And oldsters wrapped up tight and snug to shield from wind and sun,
With eyes shut under hats of straw, in dreamland have their fun!
At water's edge, the tame are found, waves rolling at their feet;
While further out, some brave the swells to make their fun complete.
And there, up high on pedestals, bronzed lifeguards oversee
With ever watchful, cautious eyes, the shore's activity.
And here I sit, a spectator, relaxed this summer day-
But, am I too a character to those who look my way?
April 20, 2015
Premiere Contest: My Favorite Vacation In Rhyme
Sponsor: L Milton Hankins
Why can't I be the real me
Instead of putting on airs to impress
If I really didn't care what people thought
I could go to the mall in a dress
Right away I'd be labeled as kinda unusual
To say the least I'd be mocked
Teenagers would all point and chuckle at me
Oldsters would be totally shocked
Imagine as well if I dyed my hair green
With lipstick a dark shade of pink
Not saying I'd ever resort to such nonsense
But it sure would make people blink
To shock everyone with bizarre behaviour
To act like you've gone a bit looney
Imagine the reaction of these real snotty folks
Might think they're filming a movie
There are certainly limits for our behaviour
We can't go naked in the streets
Coz at times when a shapely woman walks by
Well... this last line I had to delete!
we are all drones on the freeway today
hardly any excitement this side of the bay
then two crazy racing drivers head our way
They whip past me, one yellow, one gray
Youngsters I think rolling my hazel eyes
Unsure actually, their windshields dark as spies
But they drive like maniacs, like I did at twenty-three
When did I turn into old aged sourdough me?
I send a prayer down that freeway for them
two children of someone, named Mary and Jim
Crashing would be devastating for all of us
wanting to join them in their speeding, I give a cuss.
never thought oldsters were any fun
Yet now I have turned into one.
Why can't I be the real me
Instead of putting on airs to impress
If I really didn't care what people thought
I could go to the mall in a dress
Right away I'd be labeled as kinda unusual
To say the least I'd be mocked
Teenagers would all point and chuckle at me
Oldsters would be totally shocked
Imagine as well if I dyed my hair green
With lipstick a dark shade of pink
Not saying I'd ever resort to such nonsense
But it sure would make people blink
To shock everyone with bizarre behaviour
To act like you've gone a bit looney
Imagine the reaction of these real snotty folks
Might think they're filming a movie
There are certainly limits for our behaviour
We can't go naked in the streets
Coz at times when a shapely woman walks by
Oops... this line I had to delete!
© Jack Ellison 2015
Our phone has rung six times in an hour.
The same speech.
A robot offering us senior services.
We have asked them not to call us.
On call four they said we would be taken off their list.
Calls five and six were real people
Saying they were from Senior Services.
The perils of being on a list of oldsters
We will not be surprised to get calls seven and eight.
We sit here staring at the phone.
Disappointed because we both have our
Hands ready and the onslaught has seemed to stop.
Repeat tomorrow night.
Sixth day in a row.
Perils of having a birthday in
The fifties