Old Age Poems | Examples

Stroke

Somewhere over the mountain, hidden away,
There’s a land that is calling; I must not delay.
Somewhere over the mountain, that’s where she’ll be,
In the alpenglow, Mary's waiting for me.

They said I'd never recover from my stroke
A nightmare from which I never woke
A big chunk of me gone, a lower plateau
But I left the home, and off I did go.

It's our lot to grow old, not due to our sins
Trails go cold and entropy wins
But I'll boat down the waterfall where snowmelt flows,
I’ll find Mary in the place that nobody knows.

The terrain is forbidding, the ridge like a knife
Can't undo time, can't crash the afterlife
No country for old men, no breaking the rule
But I have to attempt, to give up is so cruel

Somewhere over the mountain, I wish it were so,
Mary is singing where wildflowers grow.
The starling will guide me, the meteor will show
The path to the valley where lost rivers go.

I went over the mountain, then took a fall
a thousand foot down off a sheer valley wall.
They buried my story, because no one must know.
They say I died then, but I died long ago.

Old age, a few years far off

Whene'er my old age is on blame,
A few years far off gets than I’m.
As learnt I’ve to push goal,
Thanks to hints from my soul,
My youth whilst sprouts a twig on stem.
______________________
Limerick | 30.07.2025 | youth, old age,

old age blues

It is a dreary day and my feet don’t work
I sit alone feeling like a kind of jerk
when young I could have run circles around them
Now I sit on a bench with an old guy named Jim
the energy I used to have is a mystery, long gone
saying old age is great is a strange saying, a con

Southern Climes

Spectre, South Pole's chills,
Frost clawing at window sills,
Vague fears, old age thrills....

Tiktok

Here comes a generation of substance.
Trouble lies, her name is Constance
Future of tomorrow caught with substance
Imagine Janet, Judith, Tiktok for instance.

Looking Hot another name for Misconduct.
Tell Angela Martins I have her product.
She ordered ring light for brightness
With a future filled with darkness.

Technology is sweeter than Candy,
Sweeter than the candy I gave to Andy.
Teenagers teenaging in Advancement,
With rationality reduced to Entertainment.

Tiktok, Facebook and Whatsapp,
Nigerians are lost in you dear App.
Tell them what you're meant for,
Lest we dance wastefully to Old age.

Gold turned Grey

Autumn gold turned grey,
We all do, including you,
Soul lights fade away....

Old age bah humbug

My feet are asleep
Not one of them
All of them

Old age is crucial
You do not feel older
But your body is a trickster

Your skin spots up
Your hands and neck have wrinkle rings
You begin to grow a beard like the men
But you do not get extra pay for it

When you fall you break your hip
Because the walker could not hold you
Because you are fat now too

I Am Not Immortal Any More

I used to think I was made of saltwater and wire,
the bones humming with the permanence
of myth.
I stood naked in the mirror—
a girl with the face of her mother,
but none of her death in her yet.

I thought I could outlast sorrow,
that heartbreak would crack
and pour out of me like yolk
without taking the shell.

But now, when I kneel at the side of the bed
to pick up the sock you dropped,
my spine sighs like an old house—
I feel time like a breath behind me.

Even my blood knows it.
The nights stretch longer,
my dreams more quiet.
I wake, and do not expect a miracle.

In the Autumn of Life

.
the wind has died down—
the ground  s t r e w n 
with nature’s debris—
     autumn’s palette
a feast for the eye … a shelved chore
before the
       inevitable miasma of dusty decay 

teased by wind’s chilling fingers
that’s tasted in the back of the throat –
green and red leaves 
     scattered  side by side—
     a conspiritual cosying up
a compelling contrast:
     youthful green, aged red— 
although red leads the rainbow,
          it 
             follows 
                 in nature …

the beauty of old age 
unfolds in the display of fallen leaves—
     s c a t t e r e d   to the wind
     
                infinitely wiser …

Another Year

It’s another year
And with spring
The automatic sprinklers
Once again run like clockwork
Mesmerizing in the morning 
Making me feel like an inmate
In an insane asylum 
Or old folks home
Bound to view the world 
Through the screen
Of a window or TV 
Bound within while 
Merging without a world
Of vibrant greens
The hypnotic pulse
Of watered lawns
A metronome 
To ground my mind
Within the illusion 
Of time

(4/30/25)

A Paradise Sepulcher

A promise born, a life designed,
To emancipate, to break the bind.
But fate dealt blows, parents passed away,
Leaving her to shadows, in a world astray.

She sells her body, a living corpse,
A pretty face, a paradise sepulcher, a tragic force.
Uncertainty looms, her future unsure,
A womb evacuated, her soul obscure.

Loneliness creeps, a dejected soul,
Yearning for companionship, a heart that's whole.
"I need a child," she cries, "who'll stand by me?"
But all have fled, fearing disease's decree.

Meanwhile, he seeks to blend, to chill with the bold,
A "Jogolo" tagged, making women happy, but growing old.
He dupes and uses, but ends up used and worn,
A walking corpse, his life misled, his future torn.

Both lost, both alone, both searching for more,
Their lives a testament to the choices they've explored.
Yet, in desperation, she looks up to the skies,
Her maker stretches His hands, a rescue surprise.

OLD AGE

Old age is a place, we all aspire to go
How does it looks and feels?
Is it graceful and filled with serenity
With wisdom lined engraved on the face
Or a rugged landscape of regrets?
And some memories that time cannot erase?

March 20, 2025

Growing up while Growing old

Archaic silence reasons with my soul
Not the latest model, and not really a classic
Just a girl who trembles with expectation
When the sun regards my flowers with a smile,
Sending her delicate shafts of hope
Coloring each of my thoughts in beautiful blessings
While the rain seeks to nurture the petals
Who laugh beneath dew and glimmers of light
Breaking through the soundless breeze
Who carries my dreams, roaring into eternity
Old-fashioned, sometimes though – I feel my heartbeat
And mumble to the wind, a song who remembers
What it must be like to stir the old hearts, the souls
Who color my life in yesterday’s glory,
The stories without words, stories that remember
But are never heard, stories in poetic murmurs
Healing the heart and happening, so sure
Reflecting the eternal with each wave of assurance,
A destiny, wrapped in quilts of endless truths
Old age is the one solace from an emptied innocence.

The Ways and Means of Death

I'm just stepping out of line.
I've missed my time to shine,
But don't mourn me;
My soul will soon run free.

Preparing for the long goodbye,
Few know when or why.
Accepting what they can't deny;
In the silence, I hear them cry.

Others are taken by surprise;
Love ones left with only whys.
Hearts and lives suddenly broken.
No goodbyes ever spoken.

When the body ages by and by
And all you do is wait to die,
Life loses its appeal 
And the Great Mystery is real.

Life is a play of many acts.
The stage is set and life reacts.
We all must take that final bow;
Only time will tell exactly how.

The End

Old Age

I have become
A child again

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