retirees
free to fly -
seniority
Romance, a thing of the past
a shame it didn’t last
Kids’ constant crises did it in
Envious of other retirees
rekindling their old flames
while my kids’ crises sear my brains...
You have to play the hand you're dealt
~ though losing hands, forever felt
It had been so long since I’d felt loved and wanted.
Then I met John. We basked in our late-in-life romance.
Gone was the loneliness that had left me feeling haunted.
Our relationship proved I had been wise to take a chance.
Though somewhat set in our ways, we adjusted well,
each accommodating the other. He often mentioned how much
we were alike. We had no serious disagreements. I fell
more deeply in love with him, daily craving his touch.
A year after we met, he proposed. Of course, I said, “YES!”
We retirees in the autumn of life would be together forever
enjoying each other and family, traveling. No stress---
Then came the devastating blow. Forever became never.
He called on Christmas Day, of all times, to say he’d changed his mind.
This man who’d often mentioned how alike we were declared
that we were too different. He made no effort to be kind,
to let me down gently. I doubt he ever loved me—or even cared.
He's been a casket full of bones for for six or seven years.
When I learned of his demise, I deeply sighed but shed no tears.
I found every day,
Three retirees on the bay,
While going on duty of day,
good bye to me They say,
They smile with half teeth,
Peeping out from their mouth,
As they are laughing at my mirth,
Of doing work day and night,
They waive their hands to show me,
My destination, to recall me,
My real place after last knee,
There I loose my life's plea
Spring is here to stay
For three months, hooray!
More bluebirds are chanting
More tulips are blooming
More trees are growing
And dusts are in the air.
The weather is cool, not cold
More houses are being sold
More joggers run in the streets
More retirees are warming the seats
More athletes are at their meets
And allergies are in the air.
Spring is here to stay
For a quarter of the year, hooray!
Copyright © March 2019, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
I’ve worked for years and
Had to put up with being
Mistreated, favoritism and
Unfairness in order to
Make a living and pay my bills
I am now of retirement age
To find out the money
I paid out is now in jeopardy
It’s my money, don’t touch it
Unincorporated The Slab City
Off-the-grid different community.
Slab City is a place of real danger,
whether be a resident or stranger.
Lawless free city, yet hundred fifty
families live without facilities
of electricity or sewerage,
running water : Yourself to arrange.
In Slab City retirees or visitors
known as snow birds coming to spend winter.
No need to buy any land, it is free.
Build your house with own effort in spree.
Local police may have jurisdiction :
No use in critical situation.
Get absolute freedom to commit crime.
Have perfect scope to turn into victim.
If daredevil or crazy to visit :
None gives objection or none will assist.
Rough rigorous life as if life sentence
A vagabond may gain experience.
The moving truck is there,
will they be going soon?
They truck is loading everything,
I watch them as they do.
The moving truck is there,
it’s got a seasoned crew,
the truck is loading everything,
to take them some place new.
They’ve loaded the big couch,
they’ve stacked up all the chairs,
even packed up the bicycles
they could have ridden there.
The moving truck is gone,
the street is clear again,
the cable-guys came by after
to disconnect the mains.
The moving truck is gone,
that house is now empty,
we don’t know who will come after,
I guess we’ll have to see.
They could be young parents,
or be retirees,
as long as they’re not party types
it’s all the same to me.
You and Me
So many vehicles
So many journeys
So many destinations
So many countries
Exploring life
Side by Side
From teenagers to parents to retirees
Copious conversations
Decisions made
Disagreements
Abundant laughter
Grief
Rivers of tears
Music throughout the decades
Silly songs sung
Coffees aplenty
So many years
Side by Side
On porches bathed in brilliant sun
enduring friendships are begun.
On moonlit porches, arm in arm,
sweethearts display romantic charm.
On countless porches you will find
retirees resting weary minds.
They had eight retirees
We were all excited
They put all of our names on the cake
Mine was the smallest
I figured they forgot me and had to squeeze me in
That’s okay
The boss gave a little speech about each of us
They were pretty much the same speeches
Then he made a big deal of handing us an envelope
He asked us to wait until we got home to open them
Insinuating there was appreciation money inside
I have always wondered whether the others
Were as excited about their five dollars as I was
The drug of youth is on my mind
the wonder of what I may find
if I could take a magic pill
and cure this ever aging ill
A potion for more carefree days
of supervision runaways
so worry free of money trees
all planted by retirees
Elixirs for those steamy nights
when higher than untethered kites
with Karma, not a girl I know
not ready for my line to tow
The drug of youth is on my mind
but thankful still that I may find
the memories yet to be made
before the end of this parade
What can it be if not ignited tension
Among retirees waiting for their pension
That weakly caters for their weekly ration
Their numerous legs, hundreds of suspension:
A carbon copy of the criminal’s in a police station.
Long, I’ve been watching their tired faces
And ceaseless circuitous paces,
All of them buffeted by the issued new orders
About which they wouldn’t tell others…
So, the Ministry won’t immediate payments be making
For the breath of relief they should be taking
And for long sitting on retirement seats,
occasionally their only nurses for roaring heartbeats
And varicose veins of legs deserving an apology.
The Ministry - for Goodness Heavens!-
can, herself, spare the Image of Black Ravens
with the firmest farewell to “Come Tomorrow” Announcements,
Often her making time-seeking searchers of misplaced documents.
In the land of the alligators, pelicans and manatees
Florida takes prisoners from up north and throws away their keys
Once there, they never want to escape back home
For they love the weather here, where they can always roam.
They turn old here, if they are not already there, but many are.
The crepe myrtles are blooming, wearing tiny dresses, with a star.
Retirees enjoy the warm weather year around here with pools not very far.
Even the rain here is gentle, it never beats hail or snow on your car.
Florida is a beauty, I would lie on her beaches for days in the sand.
Except I have heard the stories of the gators taking off a leg or a hand.
If it was not for those monsters, those dinosaur left over creatures,
I would move to Florida for her other sun shiny features.
Christmas cards came in today in three’s.
Silvery stars with love from Lu, if you please.
Three-D firehouse popup arrived from two,
Massachusetts retirees, pretty sweet too!
One photo card from my cousin also named Lou.
Three beautiful cards, made Thursday feel fine.
I have to smile because they are all three mine.
Michigan card my favorite by far.
With snowman, love, and a silver star.
So nice to feel love from a poet friend far away,
One I have known less than two years and a day.
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